Heather was worried about the pandemic and how she would survive the ineptitude of those running the country. Those that are legally described as allegedly corrupt, (but confirmed in so many cases) the biased, socially odd ruling class that filled the membership of the Government.
Heather was reasonably social awkward as well but all she had to do was navigate the world around her and deal with the random strangers offering her advice on a range of things. Her hair, teeth, clothes, shoes, smell, sexual proclivities and choice of partners. Heather was also told how to, what to, when to and how often to eat. She did not eat much and not very often. She was a pencil on a thin day, sharp, flashy and fabulous in her own unique way.
Bill loved that about Heather and he loved those bits a lot. Bill was also rather lean, he was mean and always keen. Bill really loved making love to the Tower of Power. He had a rhythm that melted hearts and barriers.
The current situation
Which mainstream social media seems to restrict being named, was a virus that had swept the world. The many parts of the world, the sensible ones, jumped into the dilemma and worked to a level that would save as many of their population as possible. The fact that countries were led by Politicians meant that many stupid decisions were made, corruption applied and excuses fired like shotgun pellets into unfortunate birds during duck season.
Heather thought of an unnecessary analogy, she was thinking of those folks left abandoned by their political masters. Their duck flesh was peppered with shot. Analogies weren’t Heather’s strong suit. Bill didn’t understand it at all, he was busy cueing up “Your So Wonderful, So Marvellous” by the Tower of Power. Bill was getting a little ahead of himself, naked too soon, but well intentioned. “What is Hip” was next.
Heather wandered downstairs the next morning through a fog of disapproval from what couldn’t be described as her peers. Scrotum flavoured old bitches moping about the entrance to the local supermarket. There was a rabble of old scooters riders, two who should be on one and a gaggle of really old buggers who were getting in everyone’s way. The store made the mistake of being two minutes late in opening, which kicked off the mixed crowd of extremely no-pay, no-executive types, gathering at their door. They were delayed and were letting everyone know about it.
Heather mumbled funk off
Aimed at them all under her hot oxygen poor disposable mask. The preventative measures were put in place by the State Government which required you to leave home for essentials only and food was definitely essential. The scrotum bags looked like they could do without food for the duration of the control measures. It’s said that obesity is in the eye of the beholders, but in is this particular situation, the obesity was blocking two entrances. Many were caught behind these heifers. Indeed the smell from the herd in front wasn’t fabulous. It wasn’t methane.
Heather managed to find some judgment free, reasonable space and odour relief in the bakery section. It was packed with very fresh loaves and rolls. This lovely environment was a free spot, but was soon overwhelmed by some ladies seeking a carbohydrate overdose who would not take no for an answer. They didn’t ask a question though, they just grabbed, jostled, pushed and smelt their way through the haven of dough they had ruined.
The supermarket was part of a major chain and like any other place of employment packed with absolute arseholes, and some truly wonderful helpful souls. Heather knew which was which and directed her presence to the very nice ones. The arseholes looked on in a state of arseholeness that can’t really be defined any better than that.
The shopping was over
The scramble upstairs loaded with goodies completed. Mask off, shoes off, bra off, sliding into her tracksuit ensemble and then attending to the shopping. The put it away was a routine she enjoyed. Not many really big highlife points in Heather’s life. Bill had left a note and glass of wine. It was lunchtime after all. He’d drunk all the wine and only left her a glass, shit, she’d have to go downstairs again. Re-dress, re-shoe, re-bra and re-mask. Bugger you Bill.
The restrictions and their impact dominate the overly saturated news bulletins. The different states, different zones, different levels of incompetence. It was become excruciating listening to people moan on without any consideration of how their actions will extend the spread. The news and internet were full on nongs pushing silly views based on breakfast cereal box science. Hairdressers, massage operators (adult and non adult) saying no to those who have been vaccinated. WTF, easy to understand a no if you haven’t, but a no if you have?
Heather got her wine and listened to some well intentioned fashion and lifestyle advice from the bottle shop attendee. He was overly personal but Heather was used to that and he was right in so many ways.
An increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024
