Day Two

I hate it here already.
That’s a little extreme, but there is certainly a feeling of ‘what the hell is going on?’ with this place. The people are ok, in general for the twelve seconds I’ve seen them, but I didn’t exactly make the best impression on the girl from Preston. I should really get the names, but there is an inherent part of me that just doesn’t care. As I got up today, I went to the bathroom to get in the shower.

Book Three: Day One

How many boxes must a man have, before you call him a man?

Over the years I have accumulated quite a bit of stuff. Mainly useless things that no one really cares about, but enough to say 'Yes, I exist. This is me.'

Previously on The Michael Show...

Introduction

Can you do an intro after a prologue?
I don't know... but hell why not. I guess I should have really explained how this will work.
Before I was updating every Friday with a section from Book One. This was a regular pop in on Friday or whenever have a read and then pop out.
This time?
A little different. I will be writing Book 3 as part of this blog. Which means will something happen on a Wednesday, a Friday, a Sunday it will all go here. I'll keep a link on Facebook when I do post anything so those of you who are Facebook friends you can catch when the next section is up on there... those who aren't Facebook friends... well screw you I never wanted to be your friend... nah I'm kidding... You can also follow me on Twitter http://twitter.com/djs316

So please feel free to read along, comment, should it be in the final book? Should it be lost as a deleted scene? All your comments will be welcomed... good or bad... it's all good.
Thanks
David

Prologue

So here we are. Again. No this time it’s not a tale of woe... not yet...hopefully not. I didn’t want to write a third book, but the time felt right. Those who followed my adventures in Just Like Starting Over and Argufun-The Bitch is Back will know how this works. Life the universe and... well nothing else really.

I recently was signed to an agent who is shopping around the first book and it just seemed like a good impetus to start another book. I have also moved, new job, new love... new me? Possibly. I seem to be eating less cereal than I used to, but I’m sure that will be rectified now that Nestle have produced a fairly cheap mini pack set of all their cereals. Is there anything better than Cheerios? Of course there is, we all know that Coco Pops wins that one, but never mind.

So how's this going to work? Well, unlike the other two books that came on people like a relentless freight train, this one will be written as it happens. What will happen? What will I do? What won't I do?

So join me on this adventure and let’s see how I manage to fuck it all up this time.

Day 6

Day 6

I shouldn’t be here now.

I feel pathetic for thinking about it, I feel pathetic for not doing it, and I just feel pathetic.

I shouldn’t be here.

I woke up and everything was different. There was no longer a flowery smell in the air; there was no smell of coffee and the flat was cold. I was alone. I lay in the bed for an hour looking at the clock, watching the seconds pass away, while I deliberated on my options. I came to one conclusion:

I didn’t have any.

Showering, I got dressed and left the flat. I knew what I was going to do, but I knew it was wrong. It’s illegal to purchase more than one pack of painkillers at a time, so I walked into four different shops and in each one purchased a pack. Each time, I smiled, I passed my money, I received my receipt and I placed them in my bag. Finally, I reached the little off licence, I purchased a four pack of beer and just to be sure I also picked up the small travel pack of painkillers they had on the counter like sweeties. They shouldn’t have sold them to me, it’s illegal, but the underpaid student
behind the counter was too busy, tired or stoned to care and just sold them to me anyway.

I walked back home.

Getting inside, I dumped the bag on the side and sat down. I breathed. What the fuck was I doing? I was doing the one thing I knew I couldn’t, knew I shouldn’t, knew I… I opened the bag and began unpacking the contents onto the coffee table before me. Five packs of tablets, twenty-four could kill me; seventy-two could be described as overkill. They’ll probably say ‘Oh Mike was so paranoid; he has to overdo everything.’ I did. I began thinking through everything. Do I leave a note? What would I say in it, would I quote someone? Who? Orwell, Plath maybe a Bob Dylan line or something? Should I leave clues, plug in the Ipod and have Manic Street Preachers playing? No, I couldn’t do that; they’ll probably find me while Baby Elian is playing and think it was a political act. Who would find me? Sure, work might start asking questions when I don’t turn up, but only a few of them had been to my flat and those are the ones who probably couldn’t give a crap anyway. Linda? The likelihood is she would pop back every month or so to pick up her mail and generally piss me off with her ‘my life is going great’ talk. I could be in here for days, weeks, I’d already paid the rent and so the Landlord might not force the door until next month. Should I call someone? When would I do that? Before or after? If I did it before they might come and stop or revive me, if I decide to do it after I might not be able to.

How do I do it? Do I mash the pills into a drink? Or try and take as many as I can? What if the taste makes me sick? What if something goes wrong and I don’t die, I might just end up paralysed, braindead or a Michael Bay fan? I stopped in my tracks as that thought rattled around in my head and I began to smile. I crossed to my Ipod and played the ‘Pearl Harbour Sucks’ song from the film Team America. I sat back down in front of all my paraphernalia and laughed at each line, each laugh becoming more and more expressive, more and more joyous and louder.

What the fuck was I doing?

Seriously, you dumb bastard! You actually went out and spent almost a quarter of your food budget on more pills than you’ll ever use in a lifetime! Picking each of them up, I walked to the bathroom and placed them in the medicine cabinet and shutting the door saw my reflection. I was still me. I wasn’t dead and I didn’t want to be either. This was just a moment… a ‘Black Mood’ that I could easily suppress with comedy, with laughter, with the fact that I can go on. Sure it’ll be tough, but that’s the point!

I sat back on the couch and flicked on the TV. With Linda gone, it meant I could sit here and watch anything I wanted. I didn’t have to sit through endless cop shows or real-life dramas about children being abused or women being raped. None of that shit would be on my screen again. I flicked through a number of channels until I found what I was looking for:

The violins played and I’ve never been so happy to see the face of Basil Fawlty on my screen.

Day Five

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Day 5

She’s gone!

Damn you Hall and Oates! I can’t get that song out of my head now. What happened? The flat felt bigger (it would feel that even more bigger if she’d taken all of her stuff). But she’s gone. If I ever meet Hall and/or Oates I’ll throttle them! I walked around the room, into the bedroom, the bedroom still smells of her, various scents and products that made her essence.