Tag Archives: survival

1634. I could get hooked

Who would ever have thought I would have survived? It was a miracle! As far as I know it has not happened before; at least that is what is being said. The waterfall is gigantically powerful, and I went over it! Apparently it’s the Seljalandsfoss in Iceland. I don’t know where I am half the time.

The whole thing was an accident. It was a mistake on my part. I was simply swimming in the river and got too close to the waterfall. Those who are nice say it’s because I was too young and inexperienced. I certainly was that! Once the power of the waterfall increased the pull of the current I was a goner. Now I know how a galaxy must feel when it gets sucked into a black hole. I was swept away!

This waterfall is high and thunderous. People from all over the world come to see it. In fact, when I went over there were quite a few taking photos of me with their cameras. I’m a star! I can tell you though, I’d never do it again. I couldn’t see myself doing it twice and surviving. In fact I haven’t really got the wherewithal or the gumption to go back up to the top of the waterfall. I suppose it could happen – going over again and being twice lucky. There are some advantages in being a fish, and a small fingerling at that. The next challenge in life is not to get hooked, cooked, and be eaten for someone’s dinner.

1585. Survival

(WARNING! The characterisation in this story calls for the occasional swear word…)

Poodle Jerkin was a clown of questionable talent. He snorted cocaine. Who wouldn’t if you worked day in and day out for a circus that hardly paid for nothing? And his wife had left him and taken the kids. There was no hope, so he snorted cocaine and got the sack. Yeah, he wasn’t good enough even for a fuckin’ circus.

He got a job as a clown at a transgender nightclub, where he gyrated up and down on the bar top, dressed as a clown and wanking while patron stuffed dollar bills down the front of his jock strap. The smile was painted on his face, but underneath the makeup he was crying. Then at the end of each night, Jolie the manager or owner – he didn’t know which but who gives a shit? – would take all the bills out of his jock strap and finish off what he’d started on the bar top. He’d leave each night with a couple of bucks and somehow he was meant to have a life.

One night, on the way back to where he slept, he walked past an appliance store. On a big television screen a politician was spouting:

We’ve got to get rid of all these no hopers sleeping on the street. There are needles everywhere. There’s human excrement. We should round them up and do something about it.

Poodle Jerkin picked up a nearby laptop and threw it at the television screen. He’s in prison now. What the fuck? It’s survival.