Last Tuesday I got a court summons for criminal damage and a massive invoice for repair works. I was sued for physical and emotional distress by the woman whose life I saved. I lost my job after being late a few times and missing Monday's staff meeting.
Last Wednesday I defaulted on my mortgage for the first time ever, the cat threw up on my interview suit and my wife left me because I can't be depended upon.
Last Thursday armed police arrived to escort me to a holding cell where I was to await judgement on whether I was a danger to the public, thankfully I got bail. When I got home I discovered my bank accounts were frozen and all my friends had turned off their phones.
Last Friday I was fitted with an ankle monitor and put under house arrest. I had to ignore frantic screaming for someone to come and rescue a little boy who'd been exploring a construction site, fallen and caught his leg under several heavy timbers.
Last Saturday I was crucified in the media for not saving the little boy and my house was attacked with Molotov cocktails that night.
Last Sunday morning I was pronounced dead at the scene, once the firefighters had managed to get the blaze under control and find my remains.
Claire Buss is a multi-genre writer and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.
No comments:
Post a Comment