To those who don't

To those who don't

George had made it his aim in life to do as little as possible, had tailored his own life to revolve around this heightened drive to have no drive. Once the system was set up, it really wasn't too hard to maintain, as fortune would have it. He rented the smallest room of the most decrepit, ill furnished shack on the outskirts of town, shared by a few local hood rats (and the occasional actual vermin) to keep rent as low as possible. Bills were included, and an hour every other day was spent pretending to job hunt, just to keep a steady welfare stream flowing in.

He subsisted on bread and grape juice, delivered by means of a weekly supermarket order to his address. His other needs, sexual social and means of entertainment, were provided by way of his internet connection. Technically speaking the entire world, in which he expressed no active interest and felt only abject disappointment, indelibly imprinted from an early age, was accessible through the sad portal of his ancient laptop screen. He could watch movies, drink alone and ignore the inconvenience of his own existence at the utmost leisure. 

Nobody bothered him,  having reached 50 he'd decided to ignore his wife, kids and career years ago to further this aim.

The diluted sadness of his life couldn't match the disappointment he harbored towards the outside world. Dashed hopes..

Only once deciding to venture outside, when cramp became too inconvenient, he felt himself watched like a monstrosity, slinking like a slug to the nearest corner store for some cigarettes. Not even he knew why he decided to buy a scratchcard that day, maybe it was just out of fear for the dole drying up. True to his self imposed lifestyle of laziness, he'd done nothing to deal with warnings of insufficient job hunting. The cashier looked at him with bored disgust and indifference as he slimed his way outside, eased his bulk onto the curb and lit a camel. Sigh. He found an old coin to scratch off his card..one bell..two..three? "huh" he thought aloud: "Looks like I've won half a million." There was no light of emotion shining through the deep blue fog of numb depression, even as he realised that now he could do what he'd always wanted, always dreamed of, with no chance of anything getting in his way.

Flatly, George slimed down again back to his flat, got straight back into bed and found some old nonsense to watch. He'd cash the ticket when he could be arsed, and pursue his amazing dream anew. Of doing absolutely nothing. Good things come to those who don't.

Reviews

[Maya]

I have always loved your three-dimensional characters. Such an interesting topic to explore. You feel both sadness, anger, disgust and pity all at the same time. Great job! Keep up the awesome writing! :)

[Vasilees Sybissyl]

Looks like a pretty good life to me! Greatly written. Your subtle humour is icing on the cake. I don't think anyone can write it better.

Love,
Vasilees.