Happiness & Homicide: Working Lad

"So you're not going to go because it sucks and you hate it?" Nick leans over and stares at me. "What are you a fuckin parrot? I just said that!" "That's no way to talk about work, Wil. You know that you have to go." "Not really." "Kinda really. If you don't show up they'll fire you and you'll be in trouble. You already know you're being watched by the tax man for your irregularities, you don't need more trouble. You need a way to funnel your drug money in an honest way. I thought you were going straight when you got that job at the department store, but then I find out that it's just another one of your ruses." "I don't have to go today. I have paid sick time. I could call out and say fuck these motherfuckers." "Well if you say that, it doesn't matter if you're using sick time or not; talk like that is what gets a man sacked." I raise an eyebrow at him. "Of course you wouldn't be bothered by that, you do whatever the hell you want." I shrug. "Well, within reason." Nick pours himself a cup of coffee.

"I really don't know how you manage to get away with all the shit that you do. You disregard everything good and decent about humanity, think rules are for suckers and children, yet always come out on top." I light a cigarette. "There's a high price to pay for that sort of freedom and I know full well that one day the chickens will come home to roost." "But we live in London." I pat him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Nick" He takes a long sip of coffee. "So, are you going in today or not?" "I haven't really decided. I don't want to go, there's someone there who's giving me trouble." "A tiff with a co-worker already?!" "Well, a second bitch who's giving me trouble." Nick sets down his mug while I take a long drag of my cigarette God bless whoever came up with these things. If he wasn't long dead, I'd probably thank him with a hand job...wait no, I'd probably save that for the guy who discovered heroin or oxy. "You've been there a month and you already have had spats? About what?" "I don't want to talk about it." Hot blood rushes all over me, illuminating memories creep into the foreground of my mind and I need to suppress the urge to smile.

Nick huffs. "Of course you don't want to talk about it. Mr Secrets! You know it's okay to talk about your feelings with another man, it doesn't make you gay or anything. It's 2019 for Christ's sake!" "A. I don't believe in Christ. 2. Talking to you about my feelings doesn't make me gay, me giving that guy head behind the bus station does and D. I just don't want to share with you because you're an overly judgemental prick with a hollow world view built on the delusion of faith and weak political theories." He leans back in his seat. "Wow I-whats this about oral sex behind the bus station? Was it the Victoria Coach Station?" I put my cigarette out. "I have to go. Gotta get down to Vauxhall." "But you work in Edgeware." "I know." A little detour before work never hurt anybody. "Are you going to work or not?!" He calls out to my retreating back. "We'll see how the day goes." I head down the stairs and he leans over the railing. "Are you going to be home for dinner at least?" I look up at him. "Are you my best mate or my wife?" His face crumples. "I'm just trying to be a good housemate!" "You can do that by butting the fuck out." I slam the door behind me.

I know he means well, but fuck me is he annoying sometimes. I put my earbuds in and step into the '90s as I head down into the Angel tube station. A perfect decade. Just enough technology with still the promise of a future and the fleeting sense of common human decency. I wish we could go back, but humanity is too far fucked up for that now. I use my Oyster card and jump the train heading toward Edgeware. I've used many different forms of public transit all over Europe and the tube is the easiest by far. One of the most interesting too. I've spent time in Berlin and Paris, but their underground systems fail to entertain like the London one does. I don't know, it just feels more multicultural to me and there's the essence of mischief that hangs in the air as you descend metres under London. I hum along to Eagle-Eye Cherry and the Goo Goo Dolls as I transfer tube lines and continue my journey south.

I don't know why the 90's ever had to end; I mean logically I know the reason why, but like I mean the mindset. I can't allow myself to be distracted by nostalgia. I have a bitch to kill. There are so many different ways. .I feel the need to get creative with this. The last kill was lacking that creative flair. It wasn't fully satisfying. I can't quite put my finger on it. There's something calming about death. Maybe its the knowledge that its all over. In a way am I doing this bitch a favour? Fuck me, I hate this internal struggle.

I exit the tube station, taking in the cool morning air. God, I love the fresh spring air. The Earth always feels so much cleaner. I feel so much cleaner and alive. Maybe it's just the long slumber of winter that makes things feel this way. Fuck, enough with the prose we have some killin to do. I spot her blond ponytail riding high as she steps out of her building. The sunlight catches her hair and for a moment, her hair is colourless. Her perfume fills me and I feel myself salivating. I've waited so long for this. I slink behind her as she makes her way down the street, on her phone, as usual. She doesn't notice me sloping in and out of the other pedestrians. I'll grab her outside the coffee shop. Perfect. Its so busy no one will notice-no, shit that damn CCTV shit! I know just what to do.

I duck into a bakery two doors down and grab a doughnut. She's just picking up her order as I make it back to the door. I hold the door open and almost run into her. "Sorry, I wasn't-Holly! Funny meeting you here!" "Hello, William." She sneers down her nose at me. I check my watch. "Actually, I don't have time to grab a coffee, don't want to be late, mind if I walk with you? There's something that I'd love to talk to you about." All of the muscles in her face tense. I know she wants to tell me to go fuck myself but this is her coffee shop, she does here every day and people will talk. She forces herself to smile. It looks painful. "Of course." "I feel that I'm really being underutilised at work. I really feel that I could make a difference with some responsibility or maybe have me help out in another area of the store?" She purses her lips. "Is that so?" "Yes, I really think that I could be put to good use when packing orders is slow, you know I don't like just standing around." "What do you think you'd be good at, I mean, we hired you to pack the orders that come in." That's it. I glance around. It's fuckin' go time.