Monday 24 December 2012

Last Christmas


I wrote this story before I invented Steve but it has all the hallmarks of a Steve Rant. So in this rewrite, I've turned it into exactly that. As always I am interested to know if you think the rewrite works better than the original. (which is below)  Enjoy.
For new audio click here
“Oh, I hate this song,” Steve said as he took a large mouthful of beer.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Johnny said.
“It really doesn’t make any sense.” Steve ploughed on.
“It’s a song Steve, just a bit of romantic, seasonal drivel; it’s not meant to make sense.”
“It’s not romantic; it’s nonsense, pointless, gibberish. If you think about it for half a millisecond, you expose it as hogwash.” Steve went quiet and pointed to the speakers so they could enjoy George Michal’s mellow tones.
I wrapped it up and sent it.
“You did what now? You wrapped a heart up and sent it? That’s disgusting! Image opening that on Christmas morning. If we get over the grossness of that, it must have been a bit embarrassing; like when you’ve bought someone a diamond necklace and they’ve bought you a Toblerone. ‘Here’s my heart.’ ‘Oh thanks I’ve got you some bath salts.’  Steve took a mouthful of his Guinness.  “But what’s even worse was she gave it away the very next day, regifting gloves or alcohol is one thing but regifting a heart, that something else entirely. ‘Oh darling you’re giving me your heart.’ ‘Well actually, it’s not mine, it’s George’s. I thought you’d like it. “Lovely I’ll put it next to the kidney’s you gave me last year.’”
“It’s a song Steve,” Johnny repeated. Steve pointed to the speakers again.
This year to save me from tears I'll give it to someone special.
“That implies that last year he gave it to someone who wasn’t special. Why they hell would you wrap up and send your heart to someone who isn’t special?” Steve said.
“With a note saying I love you,” Johnny added.
“Exactly,” said Steve, warming to his task. Steve pointed to the air again.
Tell me baby do you recognise me? Well it’s been a year…
“This guy genuinely needs help. He gave away his heart to a woman who thinks he’s so insignificant she gives it away the very next day and then doesn’t even recognise him just 365 days later. And he obviously hasn’t learnt because he’s giving it away again, despite the fact that if she kissed him now he knows she’d fool him again. So he obviously still carries a torch for last year’s one but he’s giving away his heart to someone else who is apparently special. It’s nonsense.”

“Steve, you think too much,” Johnny said, and made his way to the bar.

The Original





'Oh I love this song.' said Mandy as we sat in a cafe drinking tea recovering from  a hard day's Christmas shopping. I searched her face for sarcasm and when I found none, I let out a groan and buried my head in my hands.
'What's wrong?' she looked genuinely puzzled; I knew this had to be our last Christmas.
'Have you ever listened to the lyrics?' I asked, my voice betraying my disgust.
‘Yes, they’re romantic.’
I shook my head, composed myself and started my rant. Poor Mandy.  
'They are not romantic; they are nonsense, pointless, gibberish. If you think about it for half a millisecond, you expose it as drivel. “This year to save me from tears I'll give it to someone special” the implication of that is that last year he gave it to someone who wasn't special. So, why the hell did he give this non-special one his heart? Surely a heart should be reserved for special ones especially if you are going to wrap it up with a note saying I love you. And why does he keep wittering on about how she'd fool him again if she isn’t special?’
Mandy looked like she was going to say something but she wasn't quick enough.
‘But that's not all, “Tell me baby do you recognise me. Well it's been a year it doesn't surprise me.” So George is giving his heart away on a whim, not to some person he's known for a while but to someone he's just met and for whom he’s so insignificant she forgets him within 365 days.’ I held my arms open as if that gesture helped proved my point.
‘Well, no wonder she gave it away the very next day, it must have been one of those really embarrassing moments when you’ve bought someone a diamond necklace and they’ve bought you a Toblerone.’
‘It’s a song’ Mandy said ‘Not all songs make sense.’
‘No, agreed but this one has more holes in than a Curly Wurly.’ I had no idea why chocolate bars were featuring so prominently in this rant.
‘I mean at the end he says “now I've found a real love you'll never fool me again” and he blabs on about this year giving his heart to someone special. Has this man not learnt his lesson? George claims he has a new love, so why is he hiding from his ex, not wanting to catch her eye and singing if “you kissed him now you'd fool me again”. To be honest if his new beau hears that, then she’s going to be giving away his gift-wrapped heart too.'
‘I think you are being too literal.' Mandy said.
'I know I probably am' I agreed, 'but a song should have some semblance of logic. The whole premise doesn’t make sense. Listen!’
The very next day she gave it away”.
‘Jesus, I mean, I guess it’s okay to regift gloves, or perfume but a heart? “Oh thank you Mary, how kind, someone else's heart, that will look lovely on my mantelpiece next to the kidneys you gave us last year.” absolute nonsense.’
The Wham song had finished to be replaced by that awful Band Aid one but Mandy didn’t look like she was in the mood to hear my thoughts on that, so I sunk my teeth into my Wagon Wheel and kept my counsel. 

Saturday 22 December 2012

Multiple Choice


This is a rewritten version of the original, rewritten on 17/5/2016. 
My boss's beautiful daughter, my boss's beautiful house and my boss, beautifully out for the night. She was naked and I was happy. I kissed her beautiful lips and she smiled at me with her eyes. This was love or at least lust that felt like love. Let’s call it lost. But that happiness soon turned sour as we heard a car crunch on the drive signalling the return of the boss and his wife, back early! We stood frozen to the spot, listening to the engine die and the doors open. Lust had turned to panic. I looked around for my clothes, my shoes, my phone.
“Quick,” she hissed at me.
“Fucking hell, I’m going as fast as I can.” I snapped back.
I'd just managed to shut the back door as he opened the front.
“Still up Sally?” His voice boomed out suspicion dripping from his every word.
The light went on in the kitchen and I could see his ugly face peering out into the garden. I hid in the shadows hoping he wouldn’t see me. It was bloody freezing but at least it had stopped raining. I was trying to control my breathing, trying to slow my heart rate, but I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. Surely he could hear them. Finally, after what seemed like an age, all the lights in the house went out, Donald had gone to bed and I could plot my get away. I weighed up my options - should I just make a mad dash for it or try to creep away? I decide the mad dash would be best. I counted to three and then ran. But I had forgotten the bloody fountain. I didn't fall in, but I cracked my shin against the low wall. I'll be honest, I swore loudly and violently. I saw lights come on, I had to get out of there before he saw me. I was in agony but the adrenalin kicked in, in two leaps I was over the fence and off down the lane and didn’t stop running until I got home.
My shin was pretty ragged, there was blood and bruising and it bloody hurt to walk but at least I’d not been caught messing around with the boss’s 18-year-old daughter.
The next day I hobbled into work, but just as I got there I realised I had to walk normally. I couldn't reveal my injury or questions would be asked and he wouldn't need an abacus to realise 2 and 2 = 4. It hurt to walk straight but the smarting would do me good, keep me alert.
As I was making my morning cup of coffee the boss came in.
“I think,” Donald started. “that Sally had a boy…”
I turned away to stop him seeing any tells in my expression. I could feel my hand shake as I spooned the coffee into the mug.
“…in my house last night.”
“Really?” I blurted, my voice was just about steady, although maybe I'd reacted a little quickly. I stifled a yawn.
“Yes,” he then proceeded to tell me the story I knew oh so well. I could feel him watching me, did he suspect me or was I displaying the paranoid of the guilty? I struggled to keep a straight face especially when he delivered his coup de grace.
“This morning I found a dirty great big footprint in my flowerbed. I’ve got a photo of it. If I find a match, they'll be hell to pay.” I gulped a silent gulp.  Jesus he was one footstep away from having me banged to rights. I hobbled in to my office and  got on with my day's work.
I was so absorbed in my work and in trying to avoid my boss, I hadn’t noticed it had begun to snow. Donald came through to my office with good news.
‘You can knock off early junior, get home before this gets too bad.’ He nodded towards the window.

For some reason, he walked me to the front door. I was just about to take the first step when I realised I had a problem - namely the virgin snow on the forecourt. It was about to be christened by my trainer revealing the very footprint Donald had on his phone. This was not good, not good at all. I hesitated took a deep breath and…

You decide. 
Does he:

a)   tell his boss it was him in the house and that his intentions towards Sally are honourable.
1.  This works and hugs all around. 
2.  This leads to a bruising
b)  try to skate across the forecourt  therefore simultaneously making and obliterating his footprints.
1. This works, but his boss thinks he is a fool
2. This fails and leads to a bruising.  
c)   tell his boss he is quitting his job and then run like the wind. 


The choice is yours.




My boss's beautiful daughter, my boss's beautiful house and my boss, beautifully out for the night. She was naked and I was happy. But that happiness soon turned sour as we heard a car crunch on the drive signalling the return of the boss and his wife, back early! I'd just managed to shut the back door as he opened the front. I heard him ask ‘still up Sally?’ suspicion dripping from his voice.
I hid in the shadows until all the lights in the house went out. It was bloody freezing but at least it had stopped raining. I was trying to control my breathing, trying to slow my heart rate, but I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering.  Finally, after what seemed like an age, Donald went to bed and I could plot my get away. I weighed up my options - should I just make a mad dash for it or try to creep away? I decide the mad dash would be best. I counted to three and then ran. But I had forgotten the bloody fountain. I didn't fall in, but I cracked my shin against the low wall. I'll be honest I swore loudly and violently. I saw lights come on in the house, I had to get out of there before he saw me. I was in agony but the adrenalin kicked in, in two leaps I was over the fence and off down the lane and didn’t stop running until I got home.
My shin was pretty ragged, there was blood and bruising and it bloody hurt to walk but at least I’d not been caught messing around with the boss’s 18-year-old daughter.
The next day I hobbled into work, but just as I got there I realised I had to walk normally. I couldn't reveal my injury or questions would be asked and he wouldn't need an abacus to realise 2 and 2 = 4. It hurt to walk straight but the smarting would do me good, keep me alert.
As I was making my morning cup of coffee the boss came in.
‘I think,’ Donald started. ‘that Sally had a boy…’
I turned away to stop him seeing any tells in my expression.
‘…in my house last night’ 
‘Really?’ I blurted, my voice was just about steady although maybe I'd reacted a little quickly.
‘Yes,’ he then proceeded to tell me the story I knew oh so well. I could feel him watching me. I struggled to keep a straight face especially when he delivered his coup de grace.
‘This morning I found a dirty great big footprint in my flowerbed. I’ve got a photo of it. If I find a match, they'll be hell to pay.’ I gulped a silent gulp and got on with my day's work.
I was so absorbed in my work and in trying to avoid my boss I hadn’t noticed it had begun to snow. Donald came through to my office with good news.
‘You can knock off early junior, get home before this gets too bad.’ He nodded towards the window.
For some reason he walked me to the front door. I was just about to take the fist step when I realised I had a problem - namely the virgin snow on the forecourt. It was about to be christened by my trainer revealing the very  footprint Donald had on his phone. I hesitated took a deep breath and…

You decide.
Does he:

a)   tell his boss it was him in the house and that his intentions towards Sally are honourable.
1.  This works and hugs all around.
2.  This leads to a bruising
b)  try to skate across the forecourt  therefore simultaneously making and obliterating his footprints.
1. This works, but his boss thinks he is a fool
2. This fails and leads to a bruising. 
c)   tell his boss he is quitting his job and then run like the wind.

The choice is yours.