Yuppie'ess
This story may contain adult content.
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Written by Neil Sweetman
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Thursday, 29 May 2008 |
She was drunk, she was rich and stupid, she was with her mother who was probably just like her except thirty years more saggy and none the wiser. Her bastard children will never have to work in a shitty bar serving arrogant yuppies like their mother, and grandmother and themselves, probably. Her bastard children will never have to walk home from their shitty jobs with holes in their tattered shoes, letting in rain thanks to the shitty weather. She demanded me to serve her another drink because she misplaced hers, because she’s drunk and stupid, which I did with so much spite she lapped it up. For she will never know how it feels to need a shitty job, she will never know how it feels to not be able to talk back, to not take a shot at customers who really deserve it, to do everything her fat, sleazy boss tells her to do. Gin and tonic, the classic yuppie drink, Bombay Sapphire, of course. She will never sit on a night-bus, next to a drunken Pole, who farts and sleeps heavy on her chinchilla shoulder. She will never tip her server. She will never pity the homeless, she will never feed the hungry, she will never go hungry. She will never know what it’s like to not live the perfect life, her life will always be perfect, always has been.
But she does know pain, she does know what its like to have a steak knife jammed into her eye, then in her designer *****, then in her stupid bleached-blonde temple. Her purse knows how it feels to put a smile on an untouchable’s face for one night. Her blood knows how the rain soaked pavement of London feels.
She will never know how good it feels to kill someone like her.
Copyright 2008 Neil Sweetman
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