Wednesday 12 October 2011

Tax Heavenly

George decided to go after them. He'd heard so much about them and was beginning to find it all rather distressing. Aparently they were both incompetent and evil. Late at night, wide awake through coffee and worry, he mulled this over. In a way it didn't seem so bad. Wasn't it preferable that the evil ones be incompetent? For all his efforts he couldn't find the fault with this reasoning but he knew there must be a fault.

They seemed unable to manage building projects like the big circus tent in Greenwich or the concrete skate park, seemingly designed for the Greek gods, in Stratford. On the other hand they seemed intent on banning everything that was nice about the world like seasonal holidays and the shape of bananas. He was confused and dismayed.

They were deliberately messing with people's minds. Exactly how many cups of coffee and how many glasses of red wine was he supposed to drink to avoid cancer. What is the correct daily coffee/red wine ratio? He was pretty sure cigarettes were a no no but they also say that it's all genetic. They also said he couldn't try opium although they said that it's fun and not too harmful.

They reckon that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. This sounded right; he was pretty sure the flashing had already begun. They also said things about a tunnel and bright lights and virgins and peace and oneness and a devil and waiting and some kind of entrance exam. They also said stuff about worms though.

From what he heard they were after him. Why couldn't they just tell him the truth and not mess with him too much? He just wanted them to lead him right, you know? They should be leading him right. George was worried about them, and angry.

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