something I just wrote, based on events that happened today
Don’t listen to me
'The question is...' she said, pausing to allow for an appropriate measure of tension to build, '...what do I do about it?'
'Your question might be that...' I said, '...but my question is who's taken my fucking yoghurt?'
I was rummaging in the fridge at work, looking for the last part of a lunch which I had prepared this morn and had been looking forward to all day. My yoghurt was MIA and I was slowly becoming agitated to the point of explosion.
'Very funny' came her response.
'I wasnt trying to be funny, I want to eat my lunch and some fucker's taken the last part of it.'
'So what do I do?' she said.
'What do I do?' I replied.
'I dont know. Get another yoghurt?'
'But how can I make sure it never happens again? This sort of thing isnt on.'
She fiddled with her own lunch (a sort of pasta salad, from a lush eatery round the corner) and scrunched her face up, a manouvre she launched into when she was thinking hard.
'Maybe you could mark the pot with your name?' she suggested helpfully.
I pulled my head out of the fridge and mulled that option over.
'Maybe, or... I could put a decoy yoghurt pot in there thats filled with shit.'
'Maybe' she said, humouring me.
'Or semen? A cum yoghurt. Leave it there for whoever decides to help themselves to my stuff. That'll teach them a lesson.'
'Maybe' she said. 'Right, now help me with my problem.'
'What?'
'I've helped you, now you have to help me.'
I slammed the fridge door shut and headed back to my chair to raid the remains of my crisps as a yoghurt substitute.
'I wouldnt class what you just did as helping really.'
'What would you call it?! I helped you.' she shrieked.
'You humoured me. You pandered to my more irrational notions. Some may call that 'helping', I call it going with the flow.'
'What!? That's mental, I've tota....'
'Not rocking the boat, some would say.' I said, interrupting.
'This is such bollocks, you should want to help me!'
'Seriously, Kathy, you do. Not. Want. My advice.'
'I do. I really do.'
'No, you dont. I give awful advice. Really terrible advice. Shitty advice. I wouldnt even call it advice really. Actually, I can't call it advice. Trading standards took me to court, I'm allowed to call it 'unauthorised points of view with suggested (although not officially recommended) courses of action' but I cant call it advice. Not that. Never that.'
Kathy rolled her eyes and exhaled.
'You're an idiot.' she said.
'I wish I had a yoghurt.' I said, moping into the pathetic dust in the bottom of my bag of crisps, wondering who the cunt was that was out there, living the life of riley with my fucking yoghurt.