Tuesday's, Who Needs Em?
Created | Updated Aug 29, 2002
Now, dont start reading this unless youre prepared to read alot. I'm talking alot. Sorry, its not even finished yet. I havent even read through it propelly. Sorry again. This story is in true DNA (Douglas Nole Adams) style. Filled with bitter iorny. But then again he wouldnt have wrote of the irony of god because he donst belive in God.
Hope you enjoy!:p
Simon died. Now don’t feel sorry for him because he never really liked his life anyway. It happened on a Tuesday. Which is kind of strange because nothing ever happens on a Tuesday. Saturday you wait for Sunday and Monday you look forward to Friday and Friday you look forward to Saturday. Wednesday you get kind of confused because you don’t know whether to look forward to Friday or think back to the great Sunday you just had. So it’s in the middle. Now you’re thinking, you forgot Tuesday and Thursday. It’s so true; we always forget Tuesday and Thursday. Which exactly why I guess it happened on one of these days. And no I have no idea why it was Tuesday over Thursday. It just is. Or maybe it isn’t?
Well Simon really didn’t like his life because it was so boring. Now your thinking he should have made it more interesting. Well in Simon’s defense he did try. But being an accountant it is kind of hard. Simon would wake up go to work and walk over to the coffee shop on the other side of the road. Which is kind of weird, because if he hadn’t walked over to the coffee shop every day, he mightn’t have done it that Tuesday and mightn’t have been killed on the road by a couple of tourists, who had got lost on the way to Bunbury and took a wrong turn at Southern Cross. Now if the woman could read the map better and if the man had been more awake at the time maybe the tragedy wouldn’t have happened. But then again maybe if the man who flew the plane the in couple was in coming over hadn’t caught a cold and they hadn’t delayed the flight five minutes to get a replacement and the man hadn’t spent 10 minutes trying to find a map only to get the wrong one and had to stop again at a souvenir shop to buy another one, it wouldn’t have happened.
The last thing Simon thought was, I wish I’d fed the neighbors dog. Which was funny because that’s exactly what the neighbor thought when they came back from Dunsburra to find their dog had eaten all the pot plants in their apartment.
I wont go into big dramatics about how he died. It wasn’t very dramatic anyway. It was kind of boring. But how he died isn’t the interesting part, it what happened to him after he died. Now your thinking how exciting can a body being cremated and his ashes being put in a little hole bought a while back overlooking a hill which is just about to be constructed into a mall. That part is not very interesting. But what happened to the rest of him is.
Suddenly Simon was being hurled through a big black tunnel towards a huge shining light and then he blacked out.
When he woke up he found himself looking up at a big white hospital ward. Simon didn’t quite know how he knew it was a hospital, maybe it was something about that smell or perhaps it was the completely white room with neon lights. Whatever it was it scared Simon because he had hated hospitals. They smelt funny and were always so full of people ready to say everything is all right with fake smiles and kisses of bright pink lipstick.
Simon sat there for a while thinking, of well, nothing of great importance at all really. Except how much he hated kisses with bright pink lipstick, and if they had chocolate ice cream. Its kind of stupid to think he's just died and he’s wondering if he'll get ice cream like the time he got his tonsils removed. In his defense, Simon didn’t really know he was dead at the time. I guess it hadn’t really hit him.
Simon was arguing with himself whether he wold ask for chocolate or spearmint ice-cream if it was offered, when around the white plasterboard wall a white painted robot came squeaking.
Well Simon guessed it would be white under all that rust. The thing seemed loaded down with the stuff. It had a cute little tag, which could have been a nametag except for the fact that it hadn’t a name on it. It had a number No# 645739999333.
"Hello and welcome to Heavens quarantine section please enjoy your stay and you’ll be entered into Heaven as soon as possible. Thank you for staying, have a nice day."
The robot turned and wheeled away. Simon believing this the most foolish thing happened to him in all his life, well maybe not his life anymore, but still the silliest thing he'd ever heard. So, in wanting a better answer, Simon scrambled for the corned the strange robot had wheeled around.
As he shoved through the sheets the blanket tripped him up and he fell to the floor. Then he saw the big metallic strip that the robot had wheeled around. So not only did the robot have enough rust to coat a largish style satellite, it couldn’t even make its way around quarantine without direction.
This is the train of thought that ran through Simon's head as his face was pressed into a strip of cold metal. It seemed to him as odd that he should be able to complain at all since he was quite sure that that kind of technology was way out of his reach and way to complicated for many others still alive on Earth. But Simon thought that at least the robot could have shined metallically like all the knew kitchen units you say on TV and said I wish that was my house when in real fact its not a house just a TV set, because no one could afford it all unless you worked really hard at some highly paid job, and then you'd be to tired to care what your kitchen looked like anyway. But it would have looked nice anyway. It wouldn’t cost that much to keep the robot oiled and shiny or white as the robot looked.
All the time he was thinking this the robot was getting further and further away. So he got up and realized what its like to get up just after you’ve been upside down with your face pressed against cold metal thinking about how robots could look nicer. If that’s never happened to you, its very uncomfortable and you get very dizzy and stager like your drunk till your head clears. So stumbling around Simon wanders down the way he thought the robot went. Unfortunately there was no sign of the rusty old robot through the corridor and Simon could see the different turns the robot could have made.
Sinking into despair (his head hurt like hell. He must have hit it harder than he thought) he leaned against the wall. The white wash rubbed off onto his clothes. Great, he thought, I'm dead, my head hurts and my clothes are cover in some kind of cheap paint. He turned to go back (when all else fails go back to bed), when he found that the way he had just come was blocked by a stainless steel (well, not really stainless) door.
Simon said a few choice words, and sat down again. He thought things over. I am going to do something. But what? Being dead and all its not a lot he could do, I mean people had been dying for eons, if they hadn’t done something about the standards there wasn’t a lot he could do either. Dammit all, I’m going to do something! Simon stood up with new resolve to do the first thing that came to him, but he stood up to fast and his head hurt so he sat down to think of something instead.
He was rather disappointed when nothing came to him so instead he decided to walk around looking lost and talk to the first thing that came along that looked like it could talk, and he was just debating whether he would talk to a parrot if he did happen to come across one, for you must always anticipate these awkward positions, so they will be less awkward for you and more awkward for the person, or parrot you are talking to, if it happens to talk at all, when the robot came squeaking around a corner.
The robot, and Simon knew it was the robot because you kind of figure these things out if you think about them long enough (and the number on the tag was the same). “My dear, dear me. Out of your room! Dear, dear me!” and turned and squeaked away. Not wanting the robot to get away this time he jogged up to the machine, “where am I?” The robot looked at him accusingly. “I have already told you that I am a Retla Core 45 Unit. I have a lot of better things to do then repeated myself”. Simon could feel his grip on the conversation slackening, so he reverted to tactics taught in school. He took a deep breath and said firmly, “Oh yeah, like what?” The ‘Retla Coke 78 something’ turned and gave Simon a dirty look like he had tracked mud on the clean white carpet, and with a smile Simon knew he had the upper hand of the conversation.
While they had been walking along the corridor, things had begun to look different. Simon didn’t know exactly what it was but it was strange and he didn’t like it at all. So when they got to the little brown door
Hope you enjoy!:p
Simon died. Now don’t feel sorry for him because he never really liked his life anyway. It happened on a Tuesday. Which is kind of strange because nothing ever happens on a Tuesday. Saturday you wait for Sunday and Monday you look forward to Friday and Friday you look forward to Saturday. Wednesday you get kind of confused because you don’t know whether to look forward to Friday or think back to the great Sunday you just had. So it’s in the middle. Now you’re thinking, you forgot Tuesday and Thursday. It’s so true; we always forget Tuesday and Thursday. Which exactly why I guess it happened on one of these days. And no I have no idea why it was Tuesday over Thursday. It just is. Or maybe it isn’t?
Well Simon really didn’t like his life because it was so boring. Now your thinking he should have made it more interesting. Well in Simon’s defense he did try. But being an accountant it is kind of hard. Simon would wake up go to work and walk over to the coffee shop on the other side of the road. Which is kind of weird, because if he hadn’t walked over to the coffee shop every day, he mightn’t have done it that Tuesday and mightn’t have been killed on the road by a couple of tourists, who had got lost on the way to Bunbury and took a wrong turn at Southern Cross. Now if the woman could read the map better and if the man had been more awake at the time maybe the tragedy wouldn’t have happened. But then again maybe if the man who flew the plane the in couple was in coming over hadn’t caught a cold and they hadn’t delayed the flight five minutes to get a replacement and the man hadn’t spent 10 minutes trying to find a map only to get the wrong one and had to stop again at a souvenir shop to buy another one, it wouldn’t have happened.
The last thing Simon thought was, I wish I’d fed the neighbors dog. Which was funny because that’s exactly what the neighbor thought when they came back from Dunsburra to find their dog had eaten all the pot plants in their apartment.
I wont go into big dramatics about how he died. It wasn’t very dramatic anyway. It was kind of boring. But how he died isn’t the interesting part, it what happened to him after he died. Now your thinking how exciting can a body being cremated and his ashes being put in a little hole bought a while back overlooking a hill which is just about to be constructed into a mall. That part is not very interesting. But what happened to the rest of him is.
Suddenly Simon was being hurled through a big black tunnel towards a huge shining light and then he blacked out.
When he woke up he found himself looking up at a big white hospital ward. Simon didn’t quite know how he knew it was a hospital, maybe it was something about that smell or perhaps it was the completely white room with neon lights. Whatever it was it scared Simon because he had hated hospitals. They smelt funny and were always so full of people ready to say everything is all right with fake smiles and kisses of bright pink lipstick.
Simon sat there for a while thinking, of well, nothing of great importance at all really. Except how much he hated kisses with bright pink lipstick, and if they had chocolate ice cream. Its kind of stupid to think he's just died and he’s wondering if he'll get ice cream like the time he got his tonsils removed. In his defense, Simon didn’t really know he was dead at the time. I guess it hadn’t really hit him.
Simon was arguing with himself whether he wold ask for chocolate or spearmint ice-cream if it was offered, when around the white plasterboard wall a white painted robot came squeaking.
Well Simon guessed it would be white under all that rust. The thing seemed loaded down with the stuff. It had a cute little tag, which could have been a nametag except for the fact that it hadn’t a name on it. It had a number No# 645739999333.
"Hello and welcome to Heavens quarantine section please enjoy your stay and you’ll be entered into Heaven as soon as possible. Thank you for staying, have a nice day."
The robot turned and wheeled away. Simon believing this the most foolish thing happened to him in all his life, well maybe not his life anymore, but still the silliest thing he'd ever heard. So, in wanting a better answer, Simon scrambled for the corned the strange robot had wheeled around.
As he shoved through the sheets the blanket tripped him up and he fell to the floor. Then he saw the big metallic strip that the robot had wheeled around. So not only did the robot have enough rust to coat a largish style satellite, it couldn’t even make its way around quarantine without direction.
This is the train of thought that ran through Simon's head as his face was pressed into a strip of cold metal. It seemed to him as odd that he should be able to complain at all since he was quite sure that that kind of technology was way out of his reach and way to complicated for many others still alive on Earth. But Simon thought that at least the robot could have shined metallically like all the knew kitchen units you say on TV and said I wish that was my house when in real fact its not a house just a TV set, because no one could afford it all unless you worked really hard at some highly paid job, and then you'd be to tired to care what your kitchen looked like anyway. But it would have looked nice anyway. It wouldn’t cost that much to keep the robot oiled and shiny or white as the robot looked.
All the time he was thinking this the robot was getting further and further away. So he got up and realized what its like to get up just after you’ve been upside down with your face pressed against cold metal thinking about how robots could look nicer. If that’s never happened to you, its very uncomfortable and you get very dizzy and stager like your drunk till your head clears. So stumbling around Simon wanders down the way he thought the robot went. Unfortunately there was no sign of the rusty old robot through the corridor and Simon could see the different turns the robot could have made.
Sinking into despair (his head hurt like hell. He must have hit it harder than he thought) he leaned against the wall. The white wash rubbed off onto his clothes. Great, he thought, I'm dead, my head hurts and my clothes are cover in some kind of cheap paint. He turned to go back (when all else fails go back to bed), when he found that the way he had just come was blocked by a stainless steel (well, not really stainless) door.
Simon said a few choice words, and sat down again. He thought things over. I am going to do something. But what? Being dead and all its not a lot he could do, I mean people had been dying for eons, if they hadn’t done something about the standards there wasn’t a lot he could do either. Dammit all, I’m going to do something! Simon stood up with new resolve to do the first thing that came to him, but he stood up to fast and his head hurt so he sat down to think of something instead.
He was rather disappointed when nothing came to him so instead he decided to walk around looking lost and talk to the first thing that came along that looked like it could talk, and he was just debating whether he would talk to a parrot if he did happen to come across one, for you must always anticipate these awkward positions, so they will be less awkward for you and more awkward for the person, or parrot you are talking to, if it happens to talk at all, when the robot came squeaking around a corner.
The robot, and Simon knew it was the robot because you kind of figure these things out if you think about them long enough (and the number on the tag was the same). “My dear, dear me. Out of your room! Dear, dear me!” and turned and squeaked away. Not wanting the robot to get away this time he jogged up to the machine, “where am I?” The robot looked at him accusingly. “I have already told you that I am a Retla Core 45 Unit. I have a lot of better things to do then repeated myself”. Simon could feel his grip on the conversation slackening, so he reverted to tactics taught in school. He took a deep breath and said firmly, “Oh yeah, like what?” The ‘Retla Coke 78 something’ turned and gave Simon a dirty look like he had tracked mud on the clean white carpet, and with a smile Simon knew he had the upper hand of the conversation.
While they had been walking along the corridor, things had begun to look different. Simon didn’t know exactly what it was but it was strange and he didn’t like it at all. So when they got to the little brown door
