Latent karma
I used to see a little girl of about 9 at the bus stop each morning as I went by on my bike. She was a tiny, pale-faced little thing who always seemed to be frowning or utterly focused on a book. Every morning she was there; every morning not smiling. It made me wonder.

Then, one Saturday, I saw her walking alone through the town and decided I'd follow her - just to see who she was. She went from bookshop to bookshop, never buying anything but spending ages leafing lovingly through the new books. She didn't talk to anyone.

I followed her when she waited for a bus, and I followed her when she got off the bus in a rough area of the town. Her house was a run-down tenement with a scrapped car sitting on bricks in the front 'garden' and a big dog tied up with rope. Fortunately, there was a phone box opposite, so I was able to watch a little longer.

And that's when I saw what her life was really like. Her father, an unshaven slob in a stained white vest just seemed to sit in front of the TV all the time as she brought him his lunch on a tray. When he was finished, he dropped it on the floor for her to pick up.

None of my business, of course. But I felt for the girl when she seemed to ask about something on the TV and her dad clouted her round the head without taking his eyes off the screen. She didn't cry. She turned and walked out of the room.

The next day I vowed I would go to those bookshops and buy the copies of the books she had so lovingly stroked. I bought them all and left them in a box on her doorstep before ringing the bell and retiring to my phone box to watch.

But there was no one home and I left.

The next Monday, I didn't see the girl at the bus stop. Nor the next, or for the rest of that week. It was a colleague who alerted me to the story in the local newspaper. I trembled as I read the headline: Bibliophobic Convicted Paedophile Crucifies Own Step-Daughter and Commits Suicide in Bath Of Battery Acid. The article continued, "Mr Samsa, 47, was so averse to the very presence of a book that he went into a psychotic rage if he even smelled one..."

I had killed that girl by buying her books. I had interfered with the cosmic system of karma and reaped the grisly harvest of life's mysterious balances.

[Well, COME ON! QOTWs are becoming like fucking "Our Song". B3ta should have Kleenex as a sponsor]
(frankspencer, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:02, 8 replies)

I thought Kleenex was the sponsor...?
Oh, you mean for-

Oh.

I see..
( IHaveABadFeelingAboutThis most likely working from home on, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:05, closed)

I was
very confused at the revalation of frankspencer being a nice person.

Luckily, it all worked out in the end

*click*
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:08, closed)

Hmm
Is it sick i was laughing manically at the end?

Probably...

*Click*
(Pointless as a chavs bathroom, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:11, closed)

wow
im just impressed at the imagination on this guy ... are you a writer ??
(maxumus HEY!.... diddly dee, de de de de de de, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:17, closed)

And so the cosmic balance is once again restored.....
and we all turn back into the cynical, sardonic and sweary fuckers that we usually are.....


Thank you Frank.
( girlinthehole, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:17, closed)

I blame pooflake
It's not his fault really, but he's inadvertently assisted the continuation of the 'sharing & caring' theme that's blighted the QOTW for the last month or two.

I've attempted to alleviate things (poorly) with scatological references and suicide based humour, but this will no longer suffice.

I want cynicism, bad taste humour and razor wit. And I want it NOW!

Frank = Our saviour.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 13:25, closed)

^^^^^touche greencloud....
and an excellent par for the course from frank. i joined this place because the funny stories and wit used to make me shit my pants with laughter, often i have had to leave my office and confine myself to a lav cubicle to laugh my fucking brains out before returning to my desk. Lately the QOTW has been turning into a page of woman's fucking weekly. not that i don't sympathise with emotional stories, but i just don't feel this place is the place to air them. to bastardise a quote from a famous alcoholic actor character...

"WE WANT THE FINEST WIT AVAILABLE TO HUMANITY, WE WANT IT HERE, AND WE WANT IT NOW"
(CaptainFellatioNelson is trying to kill me, Fri 22 Feb 2008, 15:11, closed)

^ ^ ^
same here.
Not that I don't feel for the people with the sad stories, but I come here for the funny shit that entertains. If I want women's weekly, I can just listen to the people I work with.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Sat 23 Feb 2008, 18:54, closed)