How do you know he was a cunt if he couldn’t speak?
Well, I asked him how he was and I sat there while he blinked to his missus, who ended up typing out an answer on his computer. The answer was ‘shit because the government won’t let my wife kill me’.
Well, that’s understandable. Marriage is tough.
Yeah but then he kept going with it. Saying that because I was in the room his already shit life had turned even shitter.
He wouldn’t say. Started groaning again. I was all like “well, I’m just here to cheer you up. If you can’t even be arsed to stand up and shake my hand when I enter the room, I can forgive you that. But if you can’t even be arsed to get over yourself then frankly I’m not sure why I bother.”
What did he say to that?
Nothing. His wife fucked off leaving me to sit there in silence with him. But then he sort of gestured for me to interpret his blinks. I typed out what he said. Turns out he was pretty foul mouthed for someone with a major disability. Called me all sorts he did. Course, being as I am a gentleman, I took it on the chin. Wanted to tell him to stop blaming everyone else for his life, that it was his body that had a stroke, not mind, and there was that bloke who wrote a whole novel who was in the same situation.
What, the geezer in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly?
Yeah. To really understand the mindset, I remember watching that whilst under the influence of heroin. Sat there and didn’t move, I did. Understood it completely. That’s what I told this bloke. That he should write a novel. So he did. For an hour we managed to get some writing done.
What did you write?
With the E on the end?
Nah. The word was actually supposed to be ‘thane’ for some reason.
How do you know?
He told me.
Oh right. Not a bad start.
Could’ve been worse. But then I had to go, and you know what he went and fucking did the next day?
I know. Pneumonia.
Even though it’s the middle of summer.
Cunt. Wait. That’s a bit odd.
Sort of gets you thinking.
About why English plugs are the only plugs in the world with those safety buttons.
Nah. About whether he had a bit of help.
How do you mean?
Bloke gets pneumonia in the middle of summer, right.
Can’t move anywhere.
Someone must have taken him outside for him to get cold.
And then just like, fucking left him there.
And then either forgot about him or left him there until he died like he wanted.
Probably forgot about him to be honest. Can’t have been very good company.
Yeah. To be honest, there’s a silver lining around all this gloom and sadness.
If the dead ever rise in a zombie apocalypse, his family should be alright.
Yeah. He’d be the shittest zombie ever. Just be sitting there groaning.
That is true.
Probably wouldn’t even be able to make it out of the grave.
Yeah. Unless as a zombie maybe his body gets over his ailment and he can walk.
Then his family will probably prefer the zombie version of him to the previous version.
Yeah. Until he bites their necks.
Yeah. Unless they get off on it.
I doubt his daughter would get off on her zombie dad biting her neck.
It’s a common thing. They call it the Dracula-Electra Complex.
But he’d be a zombie, not Dracula.
True. Still got the same name though.