Great Opportunity

So tired that it seems like a good idea to injure myself just so I can go to bed. Dose myself up on painkillers and sleep. And it’ll take me between eight months to a year to catch up.
You can see the lines under my eyes. Face puffed up. Hair growing in places it never used to grow. And life not keeping still enough for me to gain on it.
And my body breaking down.
Pulled a muscle in my right shoulder three days ago. Shortly after that, while running, my left knee. I’m all twisted up with stupid injuries. And none of them justify taking time off.
Not that I can, anyway.
I have a meeting to discuss my attendance. They’re talking about how I’m ruining the chance of a ‘stable future’ and what a ‘great opportunity’ is on the table here.
Phooey.
Give me the mountains. The desert. Hammer down with crows.
Send lightening up my garden path.
I carry my passport everywhere I go.
Now.

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The Robbery

The brew was evil. And it left the breath smelling, no, tasting of ashtrays.
What had happened was that someone had stolen his ghost. Then another individual, presumably an accomplice, had taken his body to the grottiest club in town.
Who these creatures were is uncertain. They may have been downloaded from the congested ether. Whoever, or whatever, they were seems unimportant now.
He sits at his desk job and wonders if they have noticed the booze sweats, the way he staggers.
Vomiting in the sink, he becomes disoriented and faints.
The creatures steal his body and escort it back to the desk job. They get him sacked. He never knew how or why.
He awoke sat on a bar stool. An freshly emptied pint glass sits in front of him.
“Same again?” the barman asks.
And he says yes and wonders what it will be and what will happen next.