Day 2.
           
            Why do I keep a diary?  If The Boss finds out about this he’ll start cutting at my face again.  The company says that I’m not allowed to have a life outside.  They believe it saps my motivation.  If I am caught expressing anything resembling individualism I’ll sent to The Peninsula.
           
            It used to be The Island but there was a ship crashed depositing two hundred-thousand gnomes in shallow water.  The fishing rods poke above the shiny surface resembling yellow grass.

            I miss my old country.  You could kill a man if he brushed you on the street.  I was the only adult left in my village after the busy Christmas shopping season ended.  I made a necklace of their ears to give to little Josef.  Then he brushed against me.  In retrospect he may have been trying to hug me.  Still… traditions must be upheld.

            My country was closed down shortly after that when I failed to pay our crippling national debt.

            Then my goat died. 

            I came to England to seek my fortune.  My first impression was not good.  I was disheartened as I stared at the rusted and warped state of the railway line speeding by an inch from my face.  To make matters worse I could tell just how grossly overcrowded the train above was.

            My attempts to join the brutal government overlords as an assassin failed when it turned out that my previous stint tearing the fingernails from their spies counted against me.  It was only natural that I would fall back upon pizza delivery.

            More about that later, Dearest Diary.

            Today has been disappointing.  The Customer had a coupon for a special offer allowing him to punch me in the stomach as hard as he could.  I suggested to The Boss that this was not as good an offer as free garlic bread.  The boss said something about overheads.

            The Customer has been working out.  He’s also shifted his focus now he knows my jaw won’t ever heal.  He has begun working my kidneys. 

            He put the money in my gasping mouth as is customary and then slammed the door on my foot.  The foot offer has expired and I fear it will come out of my wages.  Small urchin children fall upon me, take the money, and let their fatter friends sit upon me.

            Today has had its good moments though.  I finally expressed my feelings to the woman who presses the buzzer telling me it’s time to deliver The Pizza.  I think we are now dating.

Of course my low self-esteem is working against me again.  Part of my mind likes to suggest that she can’t hear me.  That it’s possible that she’s not behind the thin partition wall… that the thudding sound is just the boiler that keeps the place just below boiling point.  This is defeatist.

I must go now Dearest Diary as a skunk, a species not native to this country, appears to have passed the rigorous security checks and entered the room. 
           
           

back to duck.