It was a
really rough night. I spewed up, lost my phone, and got battered. Left stranded
and destitute. The aggressors were a bunch of pissed-up Millwall fans. Since I
was in the area, I took the decision to knock at my old property, the one that
my Ex-partner had inherited during the divorce settlement. I know, but I needed
the help.
I had no
shoes on my feet. My assailants had taken them, my wallet, and my watch. The Ex
opened up with a face mask on, and hugged me as if we were still together,
inviting me to put her fella’s Prada slippers on. I did so reluctantly,
recalling the toxicity of our ill-fated relationship, wherein she continually
cheated on me and pilfered my funds. I used to be a rugby player, but she lost
all interest once I was dropped to the reserves. Her new fella appeared, and
insisted on a guided tour. He looked like Flash Harry. Apparently he was the
top goal scorer at City, pro footballer. While the Ex was making some vital
calls, he showed me my old man cave, where his children were deconstructing my
PlayStation 5 as part of a scientific homework experiment. They’d sold all the
games, but dismantling machines and putting them back together was top of their
current agenda. My gaming chair lay in a bundle of pieces in the corner,
replaced by a comfy leatherette two-seater. My framed Jonny Wilkinson Jersey
was now out of its mounting and adorning the back of his youngest. The second
oldest was injecting my cat with a hypodermic syringe. Hansel was meowing
loudly.
“Why the
hell are you doing that to him?” I asked.
“He needs it
every day, for his diabetes,” the little runt replied.
I didn’t
even know Hansel the cat had
diabetes. I didn’t even know that cats could get diabetes.
The mother-in-law
was having a Jacuzzi, newly-built, with ample seating space and simple to use
controls. It reeked of eucalyptus. She chewed my ears off for five minutes
about her grandkids property portfolios. She offered me some chocolate. I took
a bite and spat it out. It was only then that the new fella warned me about it,
saying that it contained psilocybin, the active ingredient in magic mushrooms. She
gets it ordered off the internet, apparently. I started seeing pink elephants
instantly.
“Don’t be a
wuss about it,” he said.
He shows me
to the acquisition he is most giddy about then, the roof top terrace. It’s here
where he grows all his weed, there’s not a regular pine plant in sight.
I turned my
nose up at the drugs.
“What are
you doing here, wearing my slippers and all that?” he asks. “You can get f**ked
for sticking your nose back in!”
It was then
that he pushed me off the terrace. I went arse over elbow across the balcony
and landed in the swimming pool, again newly-converted. Being unable to swim, I
relied on my Ex to help me out. She wrapped one of my old towels around me and
said, “I think it’s time you left.”
Zombie Publications 2025
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