Tag Archives: cynicism

189. He’ll never amount to anything

He’ll never amount to anything, the teacher pondered as he walked through the aisles during the exam and caught a glimpse of the blatantly wrong answer the boy had penned down on what he himself considered to be a fairly easy question.

 

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Read the rest of the tale and 100 more stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

Available at the Createspace Store, at amazon.com, amazon.co.uk or any other Amazon store in your territory.  E-book is also available.

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112. The day after the merger

The day after the merger, jeans were allowed again. The staff – who had detested the uniform trousers ever since they were made mandatory eleven years ago – embraced the new-found freedom with gusto from day one.

They wore blue jeans, black jeans, red and yellow. Wide jeans, narrow ones, jeans from stretchy fabric. Jeans with buttons, jeans with zippers, jeans in every form and size. Vintage jeans, haute couture and the pair that you had found at the back of the closet and you couldn’t possibly fit into anymore. Or could you?

Suffice to say, if jeans were your fetish of choice, you’d have an orgasm just by entering the lobby.

So at the next board meeting the inevitable question came up. Why had the new bosses decided on allowing jeans as their first executive decision?

“It is in our interest that the workforce keeps buying our products,” the CEO explained. “If they associate this place with happy memories, even just the one, they will buy more. It’s a basic law of successful management.”

“But half of them won’t have the money,” a board member protested. “Half of them will be made redundant in six months time. That’s essential for the merger to pan out, right?”

The CEO, a former banker, smiled.

“Trust me. They’ll keep on buying.”

 

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Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

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91. The Sunday visit to mom

The Sunday visit to mom is always a bit of an ordeal, but today takes the cake. She’s grumpy, annoyed, no fun at all. Looking for trouble it seems. And she finds it the moment she soaks the cookie in an afternoon tea that might as well have been venom.

Apparently she blames me for the divorce, now three years ago. I should have noticed dad was philandering. I neglected to warn her about it. If I had he wouldn’t have been able to siphon off most of their savings before abandoning her.

I try to steer the conversation to something more cheery, her upcoming birthday. It doesn’t work. She rants, sobs, weeps, swallows her words, then starts ranting again. The cuckoo religious overtones in her tirade are new this time. Me and my sister have jokingly discussed about dumping her in the loony bin before. Suddenly I’m thinking that might not be such an outlandish prospect after all.

I had vowed not to get sucked into her rants any more but I can’t help it. I am brutally honest with her and tell her that her anger will leave her lonely and isolated. She’s alienated most of her friends and family already and, at this pace, she’ll lose both me and my sis as well. I say lots of stuff I wish I could take back. I purposely hurt her. Then she does the same to me. When the dust has settled we watch TV for an hour without saying a word.

As I head home again mom hugs me for what seems like minutes.

“I’ll see you next Sunday?” she asks.

I nod.

She’s insufferable. But she is my mom.

 

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Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

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76. His writer’s block was 13 inches high

His writer’s block was 13 inches high, 7 deep and 9 wide. Made from grade A concrete. It sat on his desk, in close proximity to his typewriter. The writer had once tried to lift it, but it had been too heavy. In fact, he was surprised the desk could hold the thing. And yet, there it was.

 

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Read the rest of the tale and 100 more stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

Available at the Createspace Store, at amazon.com, amazon.co.uk or any other Amazon store in your territory.  E-book is also available.

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19. So this priest tried to add me on Linked-In

So this priest tried to add me on Linked-In. He was 60-odd years, balding with grey temples and sporting a benign laugh not unlike the one the new pope shows off. He worked in a rural community, a long way from the suburb where I reside. So it was puzzling why he thought I might be interested in him as a ‘professional connection’.

Perhaps he stumbled upon one of my profile pictures on Google and – spurred on by the colour of my skin – was convinced I could be another joyful African in his growing army of black catholic souls.

Perhaps he had acquired a sexual appetite for Nubian boys during his time in the Congo?

Perhaps he was just in the habit of adding just about everyone to his Linked-In profile because he was gunning for a Guinness World Record: most connections on a social network site by a priest?

Perhaps if I hadn’t been so curious as to answer his request, I would now not be tied in a damp cellar, on all fours, naked and soaked in gasoline, surrounded by fat men in big pointy white hoods with huge flaming torches, led by the most unlikely KKK-member you could think of.

 

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Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

Available at the Createspace Store, at amazon.com, amazon.co.uk or any other Amazon store in your territory.  E-book is also available.

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