Unique is useless; all she does is post a poem a day on WordPress.
But who reads her shit?
Unique is a stupid bitch.
Beyond the rants of hidden figures, a lone crow waits in silence, all you hear is his tiny heartbeat. His sapphire blue eyes twinkle outside the bedroom window of one. With his beak, he cuts through the double window pane. The occupant throws a copy of Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes at Crow, they shake and explain, ‘it’s all for social media! I do it for likes! I love Unique, I do.’
Crow glides across to the occupant’s desk and states, ‘only the unbelieving would be so ridiculous to make such comments.’ The occupant apologises profusely, but Crow proceeds to prove his point.
‘Unique has me!’ Crow declares as he slowly carves around the iris of the lone occupant.
‘Unique has me!’ Crow whispers as he jabs deeply into the inner thighs of the occupant.
‘Unique has me!’ Crow sings while scratching the knees of the occupant.
I accepted an invitation to your house after lunch. You told me you lived alone. You simply said, ‘you can come to mine while I grab my charger, I’ll drop you home on the way to university.’
I remember feeling a sense of unease as we arrived at your front door and was greeted by the clear sound of a dog barking from inside. ‘Don’t worry,’ you remarked, ‘Scooby won’t do anything, he’s harmless.’
After entering and taking Scooby out into the back garden, you returned and welcomed me in. I hadn’t intended on taking so long to enter, it was merely that my shoes were being held back by a sticky residue that appeared to cover large areas of the Living Room.
I looked down and saw what looked like a drink had been spilt weeks ago and was ignored. Keeping a fake smile on my face, I took about a hundred mental snaps of the sticky stuff that had meshed itself onto my Adidas branded trainers. How deplorable!
‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Nothing, thank you. I’m alright.’
‘But you said in the car that you were thirsty?’
‘Oh, I’m alright. I was thirsty, but I’m okay now that I’m indoors.’
‘Are you sure? I’m going to grab a drink. Take a seat, we can chill for a bit before heading out.’
You motioned to a mountain of stiff clothes and bitty newspapers. I walk nearby but remain standing. Then I spot it, the brown blob near the fridge, a large brown pellet with like black/green moving dots on them.
It’s shit! You have shit on your kitchen floor, right beside the fridge. The fridge you’re opening and seemingly oblivious to the flies that are feasting on what I imagine is the overly nourished bodies of maggots, bugs and possibly a microscopic creature we’ve never even heard about before.
I notice you down your drink directly from the bottle, place the lid back on loosely and pop in back into the fridge.
‘One minute, I’ve just got to run upstairs and grab my charger. Help your self to fruit if you like.’
‘I’m alright. Thank you for offering.’
I glance around and see the following images, that I know while reading you’ll find shocking to even believe.
Urine on the wall near the kitchen door, I can’t tell if it is that of the dog or from him.
Glimpses of the colour of the kitchen floor beneath the kitchen table, it appears that the floor was a light grey. Now it is covered with layers of dirty footprints, paw prints, rotten bits of food, chicken bones and of course blobs of shit – by the fridge, but the untouched dishwasher and a collection beneath one side of the kitchen table.
I counted around 6 boxes of pizza, and a plethora of silver takeaway trays delivered fresh, consumed and never taken away.
By the sink, I see a congregation of maggots!
My stomach churned, bubbled and on no, I threw up on the stiff pile of clothes. I go running out of the house, but the dirt is ripping my ankles. It takes me a whole 92 seconds to get out without brushing past anything. I get to the end of the drive, inhale and throw up once again.
I turn around and look up, at the window staring back I see The Dirty One. He’s smiling and waving his charger.
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