DANIEL IN THE LITTER TRAY

 



Daniel Stack took the bud from his ear and placed it on the table in front of him.

At 54, Daniel once again began to wonder what he was for?

These feels had become increasingly frequent as of late.
He’d left an online message with the health centre, and hoped they might reply soon.

Perhaps he was responsible for feeling this way?
His playlist shuffle had led Ladbaby’s Sausage Rolls neatly segueing into Wagner’s Götterdämmerung, and he couldn’t help feeling that the smooth transition only really occured in his own fucked-up existence, and that the worn plywood table in front of him was now suffering for his sins.

What was he really for?
Now.
At this very moment?

Daniel Stack was no longer a husband, barely a father, an unemployed & unemployable sales rep, and as he understood it - a complete drain on the Earth’s finite resources.

He heard his toast eject from its Russell Hobbs nichrome-alloyed, oxide-resistant, electronic gadget, and wondered if the smell of burnt bread was yet another sign that he was surplus?
Or was this just ennui?

The toaster was older than his cats.
It was younger than the car, and slightly less temperamental.
It functioned daily.

Daniel functioned daily, but was always wondering why?

The tinny compressed sound of the Wagnerian orchestra gave way to some generic drum & bass, only really discernible through its complete lack of bass.

He knew what it was all about.
He wondered just exactly what he was for?
Now.
Today.
And tomorrow? Did he still have a purpose?
In just over four billion years, the elements in his toaster had collectively farted-out cyanide bacteria, who in turn had created a billion years worth of lichen, who in turn had created the last ice age, who in turn had led to his creation.
Daniel Stack was the pinnacle of evolution.

He didn’t vote in the last referendum.
He wasn’t sure which way to vote?
He thought it best to leave it to the experts, whilst he wrote another job application, and printed off another CV.

The drum & bass ended.
There was silence on the surface of the plywood.
A cat yawned.

Daniel spread ‘All New’ low-fat bovine lactate on his carbonised crusts, opened his mail, and wondered once again what exactly he was for?

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