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[Payday, 662 words, Genre: Mind Fudge]

* Image courtesy of Dirk de Bruyn

He had been working some twenty odd years in the same job, the same vocation and not once had he been paid. He enjoyed the work, that was for sure, otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck to it for so long. But now, things had grown past the point of tedious and those twenty years without being paid had surely come to grate on him. He was pissed off. Pissed off with everyone around him and everything that had happened. He had been told if he applied himself to the work for twenty years, then there would be a large pay cheque at the end of it. Still, there was no pay cheque, there was no recognition of any kind. He felt like he could murder someone…

The job had started some twenty years ago. He was fresh then. Fresh state of mind, he held the potential of all possibilities within him. Whoever was in charge of these things saw that and seized the opportunity to take advantage of his naivety. So they gave him a job, to document his experiences in an abstract fashion. And so he started work. And what an early age it was to start work. While others were still playing around and enjoying their childhood fantasies, he began to work and whittle away the hours in front of a computer screen.

No-one really paid him much attention, they were just happy that he was out of the scene. Free to construct his own world in a way that entertained him. So he worked and worked and worked. Despite the indifference of others he continued to press on, knowing always that one day, his work would pay off.

Some twenty years later he sat there. And he accounted for all the years he had been busying himself doing this type of work. He counted it all up and it added up to twenty years. He was ecstatic that his time had finally come and he could finally collect his pay cheque. He had met several freaks of all different possibilities along his journey. They were all nice enough people. They had helped him along the way and in a way the journey was pleasant enough.

But now payday had arrived. That great and glorious day that he had always waited for. He went to the manager in charge.

“So, I’ve been working for some twenty odd years now…” He said.

“And…” The manager replied.

“Well, you said if I worked for twenty years unpaid there would be a large pay cheque at the end of it.”

“So you want your pay cheque?”

“Well, yes, of course I want my pay cheque.”

“Huh? Your pay cheque, right? Well, I’ll just pull that out of my arse for you then shall I?”

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t you get it, ya’ farkin’ idiot. There is no pay cheque. We’ve been making you work all these years for nothing you stupid cunt.”

And that’s when he lost his shit, “You farkin’ arseholes! You motherfuckers!” He tried to reach and grab the manager and beat the shit out of him. And that’s when he realised, there was no manager. The manager was inside his head, all this time. This delusion of working towards something. Some great and fulfilling purpose at the end of the long road. It is what it was. A fantasy.

And what a great fantasy it was. The idea of there being a payday at the end of everything. It helped him along… But now, there was no going back. He had worked for twenty years along this path. There was no giving that up now, he wouldn’t know how to live without this type of work to occupy himself with. He was right about one thing though, everyone else was an arsehole… Or at least most people were. The people who weren’t, well they’re just freaks. He was a freak too in his own way and freaks help each other out.


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