Our Man is sitting having his coffee. Its Saturday morning and his routine is up at six, a run, a shower, dressed in everyday clothes and down to the coffee shop where Leo the café owner makes him his required bacon and eggs and a long flat black.
I find Our Man irritating that he is so laid back about everything.
I blame King Shit (KS) sitting on his shoulder over there. Our Man never listens to me for if he did he’d be a far better off than he is now.
As it is he lacks the judgement to step outside of himself, he’s happy to play it safe and KS is more than happy to feed him all the bullshit he can generate to have him believe everything he does is right and proper.
Like going to bed early.
Like who does that at age 25?
Where’s your party spirit I say, where’s your sense of adventure?
Where’s the girl you fancied last week, the ones at the nightclub who go ape over a guy like you?
But KS has his ear and today I am persona non grata.
It’s a no win situation for me.
KS is already planning tomorrows schedule, morning mass no doubt to keep mummy happy, an hour at the refuge to help with the Sunday lunch and then its home in front of the television to watch the afternoons sport.
KS is going come a cropper soon I know because Our Man has applied for a new job and he would probably be good at it but unbeknownst to KS I’ve nobbled him.
Yes I changed a few words on his application. I mean if KS can tell him what to write why can’t I alter the odd sentence.
I know he’ll get an interview he always gets an interview.
Another source of the dull and distracting for me, as he does need to concentrate on his interview without KS and I arguing about the lunch we are having after.
I mean KS is so conservative he wont even try sushi though we all know the best sushi can only be found in my neck of the woods, or I should say, in Hades Midnight diner.
But come this week when they ask Our Man about his experience in Africa feeding starving children he is going to look stupid realising the furthest he’s ever been overseas was a ride on a Sydney ferry.
He’s going to come home fuming, I know he is because he is so painfully boringly meticulous and wonder how did that fact appear in his resume and how did he not notice it.
KS is going to come across waving his arms and yelling and screaming and threatening all sorts of holy retribution and I’ll smile and say, ‘What’s that? Can’t hear you? Speak up you moron. Really? He did what? Now how could that happen to the man we both love so much?’
Of course KS is well aware of what I do, can do, have done.
He wont get anywhere with me so he’ll go off and work his placating magic on Our Man, twist him round his finger with promises of the next time we’ll double check and all that nonsense.
Then when Our Man is asleep we’ll meet and discuss the day. He’ll be pissed off, as I never let on when I am going to strike but over a cup of tea we’ll agree to disagree, like we always do.
We do recognise our respective jobs…mine is to gather his soul, his is to stop me.
By morning we have exhausted our banter as we will have caught up on the latest news from eternity, both upper and lower floors, and seeing Our Man rise we shall clock on and start a new day.