thethemeis: An Endless Cycle
theauthoris: Deadbeat
I awake in a room that looks as though it belongs to an anally retentive student mid-way through exam season. Two of the walls are custard yellow with small paper notes and the TV has been turned into a noticeboard, complete with calendar. I recognise it as my house, though laid out very differently. My head is pounding and mouth is desperately dry, I must've been on the booze last night. I make my way into the kitchen and sure enough, standing on the kitchen counter is a police line-up of possibly guilty, non-branded spirits. Personally I think the white-label gin is acting as though it has something to hide. Now I can add on to the increasing pile of questions I have surrounding the state I find myself in, "why have I reduced myself to buying such cheap, nasty booze."
I reach out to the cold tap and place my head open mouthed underneath it. I doubt there's a clean glass in this room. I twist the stainless steel faucet, but to my arid throats disappointment nothing happens. Upon closer inspection the tap and sink look as though they haven't seen moisture in a considerable amount of time. It is only at this point that I begin to realise just how much of a state my house is in. Having woken up feeling like George Best's adopted and equally mistreated liver, I missed the more obvious signs and simply assumed that my house was the victim of a weekend long binge. Now I look closer I see that all of the windows are covered. A large metal dustbin stands in the corner surrounded by empty tin cans. All the electrical appliances are either missing or used for other purposes. There are no homely comforts at all in fact. It's as though i'm living in some post-appocalyptic squat.
Eventually I find what seems like a bucket of rain water near the front door and quench my thirst before setting off to find out what the hell has gone on here. It seems that the yellow post-it-notes which cover the walls are instructions written by my own clumsy hand. I make my way over to my new 42 inch TV which seems to be the centre of the whole operation. A sign above the calendar reads:
CROSS OFF THE NEXT DAY ON THE CALENDAR AND COMPLETE THE SET TASKS
Apparently today is 13th February, a Tuesday. There's only one task for today. SHOPPING. I glance back through the previous months, noticing that shopping is a fortnightly activity for me. Ah well, at least I can get myself something half-decent to drink now.
I still can't remember a damn thing. It's not just the previous day that i've lost, no matter how hard I can try I can't picture anything that explains my situation. I still have all my old memories of Adriana and Chris, of moving here. They all feel distant though, like a film I watched a long time ago. I'm not exactly sure how much time has passed, but I can tell it's been this way for a while.
Also attached to the derelict TV set are some basic instructions for my shopping trip. It tells me where to go, even though there's only the one shop in town. It says that there's a shopping trolley just outside the house which I can use and to make sure I stock up mainly on bottled liquids and tin foods. Even though I know the instructions are from my own hand, I can't help but feel irritated by their patronising tone. I trail off half way through and decided to just head down now to get something which will settle my stomach. After searching through the living room for about 5 minutes, I find my wallet and head out of the house.
I wasn't quite ready for the sight that awaited me on the other side of the door. It appears that it is not just my house which is in a state, the whole town appears deserted. Not just that, the buildings all looked as though they'd faced some great bombardment. Windows were smashed in, doors hung loosely off of their hinges. Some even just had great big holes through the walls. You could be forgiven for thinking that nobody had lived in this town for years. I notice the trolley that was mentioned in the note a few meters away from my front door. I begin to push it down the road, still in awe of what had happened to our small community.
After 15 minutes I come to the local food store. It was big enough for all your essentials, but we still tended to make a monthly trip up to City to get all the other things we occasional needed. We used to anyway. I hadn't seen a single trace of life all the way here and the store seemed to offer no more reason for optimism. As I approached the door, it hit me. The foulest stench I could imagine, like old garbage that had been left to rot beyond all recognition. I may not have seen a single living person in the town, but I wondered briefly I was about to encounter one, or possible many deceased ones. Barging my trolley through the broken, automatic doors I got a sight of what it was that had caused the unholy smell. Rows and rows of putrid vegetables. And further beyond that, what used to be the fresh meat section. There were flies everywhere, it was like one of those relief videos for an african village. I had absolutely no desire to investigate the scene further, so I quickly made my way to the opposite end of the store, where the liquor was kept.
I noticed that all over the store, the shelves were largely bare. The only shelves which seemed well stocked were the ones containing rotting produce. Upon reaching the liquor section, I found the answer to at least one of the questions buzzing around my head. The reason I had taken to drinking such low quality spirits was that there was next to nothing else left. All the beers had gone and most of the wine. There was only the cheap red left, which I wasn't fond of at the best of times. Naturally all of the whisky had gone. I was only left with a few dozen bottles of various budget spirits and a mixture of liqueurs that I hadn't (to my memory) tried before. I decided to be conservative and only took a few bottles of what was there. Besides, excessive drinking probably wasn't helping whatever was causing my memory loss.
I spent the next 20 or so minutes collecting various tinned food and some dried produce. I had to venture near the bakery section for the jars of jam which was another less than pleasant experience. I found a few post-it-notes in various places around the store too. One informed me that there was some extra supplies in the back, but I discovered that I must've followed this note several times previously as there was significantly less in the store room than it seemed their should be. The empty cardboard and plastic packaging also pointed to my previous hoarding. On closer inspection I decided that there probably was still more than enough throughout the store to feed a person for many, many months. It's just that I had (I assumed) already taken a lot of the good stuff.
As I went to pick up a sweet snack for myself on the way out I wondered just how many times I had done this before. Working my way through the chocolate bars I noticed that all my favourites had already gone.
ONE PER DAY!
...a note screamed assertively at me from the top shelf. "Fuck you" I thought and scooped an entire box of Twix's into my trolley. They're by no means my favourite, but given the choice they'd have to do. But what will I do next fortnight. Milky Way probably, then the Smarties, then god knows. I was stuck in a loop. Performing the same tasks month after month and probably thinking exactly the same thoughts every time. Perhaps two weeks ago I was stood going through exactly the same shit in my head. But this loop can't last forever. There are supplies here for now, but they'll eventually deplete. I've got to find out what the fuck is going on.
I leave my trolley where it is and run out of the store. I go house to house looking for clues, breaking in through the window where I need to. Most homes look as though they've just be left in hurry, others seem as though they've been turned over and left in a state. Not to the extent of my house, but definitely squatted in briefly. There's no sign of people (or bodies) in any of them and I begin to turn my attention to going through their kitchens whilst i'm there. A few places still have some useable supplies. One house even had a half full bottle of Jack Daniels. I take a few swigs as I go through the rest of their larder. I polish a few tins a sardines and make my way upstairs to see what else is about.
I find a study that appears to have belonged to the man of the house. In the top draw of his desk I find a journal and begin reading from the end to see if it offers any clues as to what has happened. The last entry details a fairly uneventful day in which the writer has to attend a meeting in the city about some merger or other. It's hard to tell exactly what he does for a living, he spends most of the entry describing in great detail how much he despises the head of the opposing companies board. I drink a little more JD and carry on reading backwards. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to happen in the town. In fact his personal life seems to feature very little in his journal at all. Eventually I decide it's a waste of time and put it back in the drawer.
I've only been awake for 3 or 4 hours, but with quite a large amount of Jack Daniels now in my system and still feeling quite drunk for yesterday I begin to feel drowsy. Admittedly I got up a little early on account of being so incredibly thirsty. I decide to have a quick nap in the master bedroom before I take the shopping back to my house. I finish off the bottle of JD and lay down.
I reach out to the cold tap and place my head open mouthed underneath it. I doubt there's a clean glass in this room. I twist the stainless steel faucet, but to my arid throats disappointment nothing happens. Upon closer inspection the tap and sink look as though they haven't seen moisture in a considerable amount of time. It is only at this point that I begin to realise just how much of a state my house is in. Having woken up feeling like George Best's adopted and equally mistreated liver, I missed the more obvious signs and simply assumed that my house was the victim of a weekend long binge. Now I look closer I see that all of the windows are covered. A large metal dustbin stands in the corner surrounded by empty tin cans. All the electrical appliances are either missing or used for other purposes. There are no homely comforts at all in fact. It's as though i'm living in some post-appocalyptic squat.
Eventually I find what seems like a bucket of rain water near the front door and quench my thirst before setting off to find out what the hell has gone on here. It seems that the yellow post-it-notes which cover the walls are instructions written by my own clumsy hand. I make my way over to my new 42 inch TV which seems to be the centre of the whole operation. A sign above the calendar reads:
CROSS OFF THE NEXT DAY ON THE CALENDAR AND COMPLETE THE SET TASKS
Apparently today is 13th February, a Tuesday. There's only one task for today. SHOPPING. I glance back through the previous months, noticing that shopping is a fortnightly activity for me. Ah well, at least I can get myself something half-decent to drink now.
I still can't remember a damn thing. It's not just the previous day that i've lost, no matter how hard I can try I can't picture anything that explains my situation. I still have all my old memories of Adriana and Chris, of moving here. They all feel distant though, like a film I watched a long time ago. I'm not exactly sure how much time has passed, but I can tell it's been this way for a while.
Also attached to the derelict TV set are some basic instructions for my shopping trip. It tells me where to go, even though there's only the one shop in town. It says that there's a shopping trolley just outside the house which I can use and to make sure I stock up mainly on bottled liquids and tin foods. Even though I know the instructions are from my own hand, I can't help but feel irritated by their patronising tone. I trail off half way through and decided to just head down now to get something which will settle my stomach. After searching through the living room for about 5 minutes, I find my wallet and head out of the house.
I wasn't quite ready for the sight that awaited me on the other side of the door. It appears that it is not just my house which is in a state, the whole town appears deserted. Not just that, the buildings all looked as though they'd faced some great bombardment. Windows were smashed in, doors hung loosely off of their hinges. Some even just had great big holes through the walls. You could be forgiven for thinking that nobody had lived in this town for years. I notice the trolley that was mentioned in the note a few meters away from my front door. I begin to push it down the road, still in awe of what had happened to our small community.
After 15 minutes I come to the local food store. It was big enough for all your essentials, but we still tended to make a monthly trip up to City to get all the other things we occasional needed. We used to anyway. I hadn't seen a single trace of life all the way here and the store seemed to offer no more reason for optimism. As I approached the door, it hit me. The foulest stench I could imagine, like old garbage that had been left to rot beyond all recognition. I may not have seen a single living person in the town, but I wondered briefly I was about to encounter one, or possible many deceased ones. Barging my trolley through the broken, automatic doors I got a sight of what it was that had caused the unholy smell. Rows and rows of putrid vegetables. And further beyond that, what used to be the fresh meat section. There were flies everywhere, it was like one of those relief videos for an african village. I had absolutely no desire to investigate the scene further, so I quickly made my way to the opposite end of the store, where the liquor was kept.
I noticed that all over the store, the shelves were largely bare. The only shelves which seemed well stocked were the ones containing rotting produce. Upon reaching the liquor section, I found the answer to at least one of the questions buzzing around my head. The reason I had taken to drinking such low quality spirits was that there was next to nothing else left. All the beers had gone and most of the wine. There was only the cheap red left, which I wasn't fond of at the best of times. Naturally all of the whisky had gone. I was only left with a few dozen bottles of various budget spirits and a mixture of liqueurs that I hadn't (to my memory) tried before. I decided to be conservative and only took a few bottles of what was there. Besides, excessive drinking probably wasn't helping whatever was causing my memory loss.
I spent the next 20 or so minutes collecting various tinned food and some dried produce. I had to venture near the bakery section for the jars of jam which was another less than pleasant experience. I found a few post-it-notes in various places around the store too. One informed me that there was some extra supplies in the back, but I discovered that I must've followed this note several times previously as there was significantly less in the store room than it seemed their should be. The empty cardboard and plastic packaging also pointed to my previous hoarding. On closer inspection I decided that there probably was still more than enough throughout the store to feed a person for many, many months. It's just that I had (I assumed) already taken a lot of the good stuff.
As I went to pick up a sweet snack for myself on the way out I wondered just how many times I had done this before. Working my way through the chocolate bars I noticed that all my favourites had already gone.
ONE PER DAY!
...a note screamed assertively at me from the top shelf. "Fuck you" I thought and scooped an entire box of Twix's into my trolley. They're by no means my favourite, but given the choice they'd have to do. But what will I do next fortnight. Milky Way probably, then the Smarties, then god knows. I was stuck in a loop. Performing the same tasks month after month and probably thinking exactly the same thoughts every time. Perhaps two weeks ago I was stood going through exactly the same shit in my head. But this loop can't last forever. There are supplies here for now, but they'll eventually deplete. I've got to find out what the fuck is going on.
I leave my trolley where it is and run out of the store. I go house to house looking for clues, breaking in through the window where I need to. Most homes look as though they've just be left in hurry, others seem as though they've been turned over and left in a state. Not to the extent of my house, but definitely squatted in briefly. There's no sign of people (or bodies) in any of them and I begin to turn my attention to going through their kitchens whilst i'm there. A few places still have some useable supplies. One house even had a half full bottle of Jack Daniels. I take a few swigs as I go through the rest of their larder. I polish a few tins a sardines and make my way upstairs to see what else is about.
I find a study that appears to have belonged to the man of the house. In the top draw of his desk I find a journal and begin reading from the end to see if it offers any clues as to what has happened. The last entry details a fairly uneventful day in which the writer has to attend a meeting in the city about some merger or other. It's hard to tell exactly what he does for a living, he spends most of the entry describing in great detail how much he despises the head of the opposing companies board. I drink a little more JD and carry on reading backwards. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to happen in the town. In fact his personal life seems to feature very little in his journal at all. Eventually I decide it's a waste of time and put it back in the drawer.
I've only been awake for 3 or 4 hours, but with quite a large amount of Jack Daniels now in my system and still feeling quite drunk for yesterday I begin to feel drowsy. Admittedly I got up a little early on account of being so incredibly thirsty. I decide to have a quick nap in the master bedroom before I take the shopping back to my house. I finish off the bottle of JD and lay down.
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I awake in a room that personifies middle America with it's huge wardrobes and meticulously tidy decor. This certainly isn't my house. I feel slightly tipsy, though not overly hung-over. Despite this I struggle to remember how on earth I came to be here. It seems to be late afternoon. I get up off of the bed, fully dressed, and move to the door to listen out for anybody else that may be in the house. It sounds eerily silent out there. I slowly make my way downstairs to find that the place is completely empty. It looks as though somebody has burgled the place, the window is broken and everything has been turned over. I haven't got a clue what i'm doing here but i'd decide to leave before any blame can be put at my door.
I open the door slightly to make sure I can sneak out unseen, only to discover that the whole town is deserted. Not only is the town devoid of people, it looks as though it has been hit by some natural disaster. I walk out into the middle of the road to take in the whole scene. The house that I have just come from is not far from the local food store. In a state of complete confusion I run back to my house to see whether my wife and son are there and to make sense of this whole thing.
I run in through the open door and find myself in a room which feels as though it belongs to a mentally unstable poet. I search through all of the rooms but find no trace of either Adriana or Chris. Then I notice the new 42 inch television which is now absolutely covered in paper. I read the notes which explain that I have damage my brain such that I am experiencing life through a series of short passages, after which time my memory disappears. I large note on top of the TV set reads:
CROSS OFF THE NEXT DAY ON THE CALENDAR AND COMPLETE THE SET TASKS
I look at the calendar which states that today is 14th February, a Wednesday.
