Rotten Bastards

It's a blog. It's a way of life. It's many things in between.


Tuesday, 10 March 2009

A BLACK & THE HEX

I've always been broke and I always will be. The past has been my fault and the future the fault of a black man and I. There have been flourishes of money times in my stretch of life thus far but it gets spent almost instantly. I'm thirty four and more broke than I ever have been. I've been unemployed for just over five weeks, the first time in around 12 years. I applied for job seekers allowance over the phone to this cranky woman, a bear of a woman, I imagined. I forgave her for this though as she had a pleasant voice and I felt as if I knew her after the thirty five or so minutes of me saying 'yes' and 'no', mainly 'no'.

Somewhere between her, an interview, me lying and signing that dole form, everything got lost and I had to go through the same failure steps again with a much more chipper lady. Within a week, nothing. I call up and demand a supervisor, a cheque comes the next day for sixty four pounds and seventeen pence.

I am delighted.

This was a couple of days ago.

A couple of years ago I'm standing in a queue at the ATM of Barclays bank opposite where the Starbucks is now in Nottingham City centre, it's a warm day, the sun is out. I'm probably wondering if the machine will spit me some of the vile green backs and definitely wondering why the big black dude in front of me is holding an umbrella as there is no sign of rain. I get to the machine, I'm quizzed as to which service I require next. The big dude has left his card in the machine. I take a quick look around the corner to see him walking away from me, far enough away for me to steel his earnings. All of a sudden I'm on one of those vibro machines that people use to vibro shit or lose weight with. I press the cash button then the hundred pound button and I'm dissolving in paranoia as the machine "Nuuuuuurs" away. It fucks out a hundred as I'm looking for a camera.

I should have got more?

I shouldn't have taken any! I should have fucked him over for a grand, will they let you take that much?

I was raised racist, fuck him! He doesn't know how to structure his day around the weather let alone know how to retrieve a card, fuck him!

A fresh birth has more mettle than...

The walk home from there was in tradition of Henry Hill and I have lived a life much the same as his ever since. I don't have a monkey on my back I have this big rich looking nigger with an umbrella.

So I confess, I stole from this guy who I don't know and never will lest I show the cops my wrists for a hundred quid. The fuckers ruined me, I'm sure of it. I do loops around ladders to reverse the burden.

3 comments:

billyboy said...

Now that's a confession! Great description and scene setting. I picture Robert Carlyle and Lenny Henry.

Best part: You took the money and it's his fault. I think the only way to change your fortune is for you to find him and then team up to do a strip show to raise money for charity. That should bring enough good karma to reverse the curse. How d'yer feel about taking your kit off?

Walch said...

I'd take my skin off for ten quid at the moment. It would make a redundant wallet for it.

Tomby Stone said...

You disgusting criminal scum. I would never ever take money that I hadn't earned.

... by the way, tell the government you're crazy, it get's you way more money. I just got my psychoallowance increased and I didn't even feel myself get any crazier.