I AM I: BAGGIES
by Veronica Purcell
I know it was stupid of me to work outside today, and should’ve checked the sky and see if it was still mourning the loss of the world. I stepped into puddles and allowed its shit to rain over me anyway. Besides, who else is going to lug those maggoty baggies into the cauldrons? I don’t see God doing it anytime too soon, especially when the damned fires took longer to kick in and the corpses slower to disintegrate. The flies are only interested in making my chores more miserable. Bastards!
Does God care that I almost did a Russian-Roulette this morning over weak coffee, tasteless bread and stale gossip? I know Mickey’s Dinner has a reputation to uphold but honestly... Luckily, I had the ole Lotto Cat to reassure me. Its numbers promised a better tomorrow.
Lunchtime was a better impression. I ate acrid bagels whilst watching the usual bird silhouette picture and its soars through the grey skies with an impression of ease. I debated whether it cared to see colour again. The debate left me hollow and saw the bagels creating Jackson Pollack impressions on the floor. I decided to leave the artistic mess for tomorrow. No one’s going to care.
So for today, I go to sleep grateful to God for my survival. I suppose I should say the prayer for today’s dead.
“God above, give these baggies rest in peace, and hello to Michael J.”