Chapter 20 The Big Bad Love Machine

139.

Charlie Brittleson won the lottery.

Specifically he won $400.

He stared at the ticket in his hand. There was silver scratch-dust still on the table. The penny was still pinched between thumb and forefinger.

But he had all his bills paid and….

He punched his fist in the air. ‘Fuck yeah!’

He was going to the circus with his bird.

‘Wheeeeeee!’ he said as he spiraled down the slide, with the bird cage in his lap.

He threw a horseshoe, hit the pole and won a stuffed teddy bear for his bird. ‘VICTORY!’ he shouted. The bird flew in a tornado motion, in celebration, chirping gibberish.

They were then in the photo booth getting their picture taken. ‘Do the duck lips do the duck lips!’ With the bird sat on Charlie’s shoulder. They both did the duck lips looking, sexy as fuck.

They then stopped at McDonald’s eating silently. The bird was let out on the table, eating from a bowl of bird seed, while Charlie dug into his burger.

‘Chirp.’

‘What?’

‘Chirp chirp.’

‘Ha ha, so true.’

He then hired a self driving uber to take them both home. He sat down, a ribbon of photos sticking out his breast pocket, a stuffed bear under his arm and a bird cage on his lap, staring out the window.

There was a double rainbow on full display, the city was full of interesting people, and the sun was smiling.

The car dropped him off at his own house, he skipped up the path and entered his house.

‘VICTORIA!’ he shouted. ‘I JUST WON A STUFFED ANIMAL FOR LITTLE BIRDY AND THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!’

‘That’s great dad! I’m happy for you.’

Charlie put down the bird cage on the table, unlocked the door and the bird flew out the cage, and made orbits around the room.  

‘DID YOU KNOW LIFE IS AWESOME?’ Charlie asked.

‘It is?’ said Victoria, poking her head round the corner.

‘YES, YES, YES!’ He ran up to Victoria, picked her up by the armpits and lifted her off the ground when his back gave out and he fell to the carpet. ‘FUCK!’ he said.

‘Oh dad, do you need a doctor!’

‘No, no I’m fine-fuck that hurts!’ He started breathing heavily, but calmed down eventually. He gestured to his daughter. ‘Come lie on the floor with me.’

‘Okay.’ She said. She got on the floor, and lay down next to him.

‘This ceiling is awesome.’ He said in a tone of wonder. ‘How have I never noticed how awesome this ceiling is before.’

‘It is awesome dad.’

‘I love you, Victoria.’

‘I love you too dad.’

Little birdy walked across the carpet between their noses and chirped.

‘And I love little birdy.’ Said Charlie.

‘Chirp.’

‘Ha ha ha ha, so true.’ Said Charlie.   

140.

‘Let’s get ice cream.’ Said Charlie, the next day.

‘Sure.’ Said Victoria.

Flash forward to the ice cream parlor, Charlie hadn’t said anything, the entire trip over, there was grey smears under his eyes.

When he got his paper cup full of chocolate ice cream, he seemed to wake up, and he stabbed his little plastic shovel into the ice cream’s flesh.

‘You okay dad?’

He nodded, smiled: ‘I’m great, what about you?’

‘Pretty good,’ she said. ‘I uh… I got a job.’

Charlie froze and big-eye stared at her.

Victoria was about to say something, when Charlie’s expression snapped back to normal, and he spoke again.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to react like that, it’s just that I’ve been trying to get a job, for a while, so I was a bit shocked that you got one in less than two weeks, is all. I’m so happy for you, though, Victoria. That’s absolutely, absolutely wonderful news. That’s just so, so wonderful.’

‘Thanks dad.’    

There was a quiet, where Victoria licked the hide of her blood orange sherbet.

‘My hair’s thinning.’ Said Charlie.

Victoria looked at her dad’s combover.

‘Really?’ she asked.

‘There was so much hair on the pillow this morning. So much.’ He scooped the chocolate into his mouth.

‘Did you sleep well?’ asked Victoria, trying to probe her father’s mental state.

Charlie made eye contact and understood.

Suddenly he relaxed, leaned back fondled his chin.

‘Not really.’ He said and grinned. ‘Read one of those, um watchacallits, AI generated novels. Ronald McDonald goes to Hogwarts. The books that come out of nowhere.’

‘Oh.’ Said Victoria. ‘Did you like it.’  

‘It was great.’ He said. ‘Perfect actually.’

Victoria smiled. ‘I’m happy you liked it.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ He said, pinching his tongue between his teeth.

The smile slipped out of existence. Victoria felt uncomfortable.

Charlie realized what he’d done. ‘I’m sorry. Sorry, I’m just a bit panicky.’

‘It’s okay.’ She said. She showed her dimples. ‘This ice cream is really good.’

Charlie opened his lips to say something.

Then said something.

‘Victoria… can I talk to you about something?’

‘Shoot.’ She said.

‘Victoria, I-‘ he held his mouth open for about ten seconds. He tried to say it and failed. He shut his mouth and mastered himself. He smiled. ‘This ice cream is really good.’

‘Yeah, we should come here more often.’

‘Agreed.’ He felt like his rib cage was filling with shit, he took a bite of his ice cream and it disgusted him.

141.

Charlie didn’t write that morning.

Instead, he tried calling all his friends again, people who’s job was specifically to make him feel better about himself. One of them even picked up.

They blathered on a bit, and eventually the friend said.

‘…but an AI can’t recreate the human touch, they’re machines, Charlie.’

‘I fucking know they’re machines, and I’m telling you it makes everything Stephen King wrote look like shit and burning garbage.’

‘Look don’t get angry at me, I’m just trying to help.’

‘Well, who the fuck am I going to be angry at?’ Charlie said, laughing. ‘Mickey Mouse?’

‘Look if you’re going to be like that, I’m gunna hang up.’

‘THEN HANG UP, YOU FUCKWIT!’

There was a quiet.

‘Goodbye Charlie.’

The friend hung up.

 Charlie lowered the phone.

‘Ass hole.’ He said, and threw the phone on the bed.  

142.

Charlie was struggling to read a book at the kitchen table.

Victoria was chopping vegetables and watching TV: something about AI probably.

‘Hey watch what you’re doing.’ Charlie said.

‘What?’

‘I said watch what you’re doing not the TV.’

‘Well duh, dad, I’m not an idiot.’

Her fingertip flew across the room.

‘SHITFUCKBASTARDCUNT!’ she screamed. ‘Oh MY God,’ she bellowed, clutching her bleeding hand to her belly. ‘FUCKING DAMN, DAMN, DAMN.’  

Charlie leaped into action, ran to his daughter and realized he didn’t know what to do, U-turned, yanked open the freezer.

‘I’m getting some ice, don’t worry!’

‘NO DON’T GET ICE THAT’S DANGEROUS!’

‘I’m pouring the ice into a bowl. For the finger trip.’

‘NO, LISTEN DAD!’ she stabbed a finger at his direction, blood droplets flew and freckled the table. ‘Fuck! Don’t get ice for the finger tip, use a sandwich bag.’

‘What?’

‘A sandwich bag. A sandwich bag with a water tight seal, for the finger tip.’

‘GOT IT!’

He ran into the pantry, then zoomed back out, with a sandwich bag.

‘Where is it?’

By now Victoria had gotten a first aid kit, the amputated part of her finger being cleaned under the tap. ‘On the counter.’ She flailed a hand in its direction.

‘Okay, okay, okay.’ His eyes zoomed in on the finger tip.

He went and grabbed it except the bird got it first and flew away.

‘SHIT!’ said Charlie chasing the bird out the kitchen into the hallway.

‘WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?’ yelled Victoria.

‘The bird grabbed it, but don’t worry!’ his voice turned low and deadly serious. ‘I’ve got it cornered, there’s nowhere for it to go.’ His voice became patronizing. ‘Here birdy, birdy, that doesn’t belong to you, no it doesn’t, hand it over real slow, no DON’T EAT IT!’

There was a deadly silence.

Then Charlie’s voice came through the hall: ‘Everything just got a thousand times more complicated.’

‘Shit.’ Said Victoria.

143.

A card was slid under Victoria’s door.

Victoria, rushed for the handle and flew the door open. Charlie was squatting there with the bird on his shoulder.

‘Hello.’ Said Victoria.

Her dad looked quite tired and bag eyed.

‘Hello.’ He replied.

Victoria reached down and picked up the card, read it.

‘Did you write this?’ asked Victoria.

Charlie shook his head.

‘Uh, no, no I didn’t.’

Victoria glared at him, then read the card aloud.

‘I am so sorry for eating your finger. I thought we were just playing a game, sometimes I have difficulty understanding human culture, and if you could forgive me I would be ever so grateful. Humbly yours: Little Birdy.’  

Charlie was quiet, but grinned stupidly.

‘Chirp.’

‘Shut up.’ Said Charlie.

‘Dad…’ Victoria sighed. ‘It’s fine. I mean it’s not fine, it hurts like hell but it’s fine. My index finger’s a little shorter now, but that’s okay.’

‘Oh…’ said Charlie. ‘Well… me and birdy have been talking, and we were wondering if you wanted to, um, go to the circus. Our treat.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘But I want to.’

Victoria wanted to say: and the circus is for little kids, but stopped herself. ‘Okay.’ She said, smiling. ‘Let’s go to the circus.’  

144.

They were walking to the car.  

‘I’m a bit tired and I’m gunna use you as a pillow for the drive if that’s okay.’

‘Dad, we don’t have to go, if you’re tired.’

‘Nonononono, it’s the last day, we’ve got to go.’

‘Okay, okay, lets go.’

Charlie slept most of the way there, snoring with his head on Victoria’s lap.

He was like a very old, balding child with a drinking habit. She thought.

She patted her dad on the cheek when they got there. ‘Rise and shine.’ She said. ‘Circus time.’

‘Are we here?’

‘Yup.’ He clambered out of the vehicle. ‘Fuck it’s a bright one.’ He said shielding his eyes.

‘Ya huh.’ She climbed out after him, and together they went to the circus.

They ate hot dogs, layered with a double helix of ketchup and mustard, chowed them down. Charlie, drank some more coffee until his pupils went sub atomic and his hand began to flutter. ‘Oh wow.’ He said. First up was the roller coaster, they were at the back of the line, Charlie tapping his feet.

‘Fuck this.’ He said then stepped out of line, he made follow-me gestures and went up to the front.

‘What are we doing?’ Charlie slipped the guy in the front of the queue a twenty and took his place. Uproar from everyone behind. ‘DAD! That’s not okay.’

‘It’s legal.’ He said dismissing her concerns, ‘Now step next to me.’

She stepped next to him.

‘I’m sorry.’ She said to the person behind.

‘What for?’ said person.

They got on the roller coaster.

Screams from everyone.

‘WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME IT WAS THIS FAST!’ said Charlie.

‘It’s a rollercoaster!’ shouted Victoria.

‘FUCK FUCK FUCK.’

They got off the rollercoaster and Charlie doubled over vomiting. Victoria patted his back, smiling at the other passengers.

‘Serves him right for pushing.’ Said a stranger.

‘Yeah well you can eat shit and die.’ Victoria muttered to herself.

Charlie dropped the contents of his guts onto the ground, and had to pick up his sick-slick glasses out of the vomit puddle.

‘That was great.’ he said. Wiping them clean on the hem of his shirt. ‘What’s next?’ he groaned.

 ‘Uh… hook a duck? Win some cheap shit made in China.’

‘Awesome.’

They fished a duck out of the moat.

‘OH MY GOD I GOT ONE!’ screamed Charlie. ‘DID YOU SEE THAT, VICTORIA I GOT ONE.’

‘I saw it, dad, stop screaming.’

‘Sorry.’ He whispered. ‘Which prize do you want?’

‘Uh, the barbie doll?’

‘Barbie doll coming right up.’

Victoria walked away with a barbie doll under her arm.

‘What next?’ Charlie said.

‘Uh… mirror maze.’

In the mirror maze:

‘Look Victoria.’ Said Charlie, groping himself in front of a funhouse mirror that gave him an hourglass figure. ‘Look at my amazing tits.’

‘They’re great dad, I’m jealous.’

‘Yeah, you are.’ He spanked himself.

In Victoria’s mirror she’d been squeezed into a pencil-thin body, a head on a stick, no breasts or ass to speak of. She looked a little weird.

Then the coffee started to wear off, and Charlie began to slow down.

‘Hey, Vicky, is it cool if we take a break?’

‘Of course, lets head up to the cafeteria.’

At the cafeteria, they ordered carrot cake. It looked like an invisible anchor had been tied to Charlie’s chin, stretching his face out. He yawned.

‘You didn’t sleep well?’

He shook his head. ‘Woke up at three A.M, and went back under at five; woke up for real feeling like cancer riddled manure.’

‘The nightmare?’

‘A little… but… uh… mostly other stuff. I just can’t turn my brain off, thoughts just keep whirling non-stop through my brain.’  

‘What’s the other stuff?’

She took a bite of carrot cake.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘What do you think about that’s keeping you awake?’ she said, chewing.

‘Oh… just… stuff. I think, I’m just a bit scared of everything that’s all.’

‘What do you mean?’

He shrugged, then he said looking embarrassed. ‘I, uh, can’t stop thinking, the book I read.’ He rang the side of his plate with a spoon. ‘I think its just, stories were my life y’know? For twenty years, I had the honor and the privilege of getting to teach kids how to read and write, I got to teach them where to put their commas, and where to put their semicolons, I got to teach them about literature, Shakespeare, Hemingway, and Dickens. That was what I was put  on earth to do, they were the twenty most wonderful years of my life, then suddenly I just couldn’t do that anymore. I mean I think I’m over that now, but it hurt a lot at the time. With writing, I could be wrong, but I think I wrote for thirty minutes to an hour every day since I was sixteen. I even got a few short stories, published in magazines. I was very proud of them. I know it was just a hobby, but it filled my life with purpose, when I lost my job. But now I’m reading this AI stuff, and I realize… it’s over. There’s nothing left for me to do. There’s no need to participate. AI does everything better than me.’ He shrugged and took a bite, of his carrot cake. ‘So yeah. Maybe I’m just having a mid life crisis or something. I don’t know.’

‘Can’t you keep writing for fun?’ Victoria asked.

He shook his head: ‘What’s the point?’ he chewed his cake and smiled. ‘I guess I’m happy for the readers though. The AI stuff really is the bees knees, the best stuff to ever grace the book shelves.’ He swallowed. ‘I kind of wish it didn’t exist.’

‘Well, I guess it’s the market.’ Victoria blathered meaninglessly. ‘if BlueAI didn’t make it, 4VHumansAI would, if not 4VHumansAI then somebody else.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Oh, uh, sorry.’

Quiet.

‘No that’s my fault, I was being a jerk. Sorry. I shouldn’t be so stingy, I got beaten fair and square, I should just get over it. Yeah I should just get over it.’ He was quiet. ‘Do you think the government might get rid of fiction generators?’

‘Why would they do that?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Uh, I guess I wouldn’t hold my breath.’

‘Yeah that’s fair.’ Charlie fondled his chin. ‘Fuck everything.’

Victoria finished off her carrot cake.

‘You like me right?’ he asked.

‘That’s a bit out of nowhere.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘Yes, dad I love you.’

He nodded.

‘That’s good.’ He said, he rubbed one eye. ‘Sorry if that was a weird question, I’m just really fucking tired.’

‘Get some more coffee.’

He nodded. ‘yeah , yeah I’ll do that.’ He got another cup of coffee, and then he was something like his old self again. ‘Oh, fuck that feels good. Where to next?’

‘Ferris wheel?’

They went round and round, Charlie cheered up magnificently with all the coffee running through his veins, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He filled clown’s brains, with water guns until their head exploded, and the stall guy gave him a stuffed animal (his blood money, for killing a balloon with a face on it.) he then handed the prize to Victoria. They threw horse shoes, ate cotton candy, went on the waltzer, dad was carrying a pink bear the size of a person piggybacking on his shoulders.

‘I shall name her: Gloria.’ Said Victoria. ‘The mightiest of she bears, a noble beast capable of kidnapping a school bus full of children and driving them off a cliff, the queen of the animal kingdom.’

‘What does she eat?’

‘Only nuclear powered cup cakes, tiny muffin shaped things, which spill radiation and give you cancer.’

‘But not Gloria?’

‘No, Gloria is too pink to have cancer.’

‘I think many scientists would disagree with you.’

‘Puppy crud and bull spit, she is too pink.’

‘Okay she’s immune. What are her personality traits.’

‘Well, uh… she’s kind, and so smart, and she hates capitalism.’

‘She’s communist.’

‘Absolutely, she has read Karl Marx’s manifesto a thousand, thousand times, and has engineered a perfect society full of care bears where everyone gives according to their ability and receives according to their need.’

‘It can’t last, communism never works in practice.’

‘This time it does! Because care bears aren’t greedy, dad!’

‘Okay but what if the Teletubbies waged war on the care bears, what then?’

‘The care bears are a peaceful folk, and they would hug the Teletubbies until they stopped fighting.’

‘That would probably work in real life.’

‘Yes, yes it would.’

Charlie yawned, a stupid smile on his face.

‘I’m glad I got to hang out with you today.’ He said. ‘I was feeling really miserable, but you made it all better. Thanks Victoria.’

She flapped a hand at him. ‘Don’t mention it, just doing my job.’ She smiled. ‘I love you dad.’

He gave his goofy stupid grin in return. 

‘I love you too.’

Victoria slung an arm over his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

‘Aw.’ He said. ‘I feel fuzzy.’

She punched his shoulder. ‘You’re welcome.’

Together they walked home.

145.

Crash!

It was three A.M.

‘What the… fuck.’ Victoria muttered.

Crash!

She rubbed her eyeballs, slipped into her slippers and waddled to the door.

Down the hallway she went – CRASH! – down the stairs she went – Crash! – into the kitchen:

Charlie was in the kitchen armed with a small tower of saucers which he’d stacked on the table and throwing them against the wall, watching them explode, while he leaned back in his chair.

‘I feel really angry.’ Charlie said, calmly.

Victoria rubbed her eyes.

‘Dad… dad, it’s three A.M.’

‘I know. Would you like to throw plates with me?’

‘Please stop, Dad.’

‘I think I’ve forgotten how to sleep.’ He said in a tone of wonder. ‘It used to be so easy.’

‘Dad, I’m sorry AI literature exists, could you please stop throwing a temper tantrum, so I can sleep?’

‘I’m afraid, I can’t do that, until I’ve destroyed everything.’

Victoria walked up to him, and pushed the stack of plates to the floor, Charlie covered his eyes with a fore arm, to avoid shards bisecting his retinas.

‘Happy?’ asked Victoria, her hands planted on the table.

Charlie looked at the mess, didn’t say anything, then said: ‘I paid for those plates.’

‘You’re impossible.’ Victoria sighed, arms folded across her chest. ‘I’m going to go back to sleep. Please don’t wake me.’

Charlie didn’t say anything.

Victoria walked back upstairs.

146.

Victoria was scraping the remains of smashed plates into a dust pan, before pouring them into the dust bin.

Charlie walked in, in a dressing gown rubbing his eyeballs, walked across the room in a slouch, as if an invisible goblin was riding piggy back.

‘Hey, dad…’

‘Don’t care, please shut up.’ He opened the cupboard. ‘Where are the plates?’ No reply except the slamming of a door. He turned to look over his shoulder and she was gone.

He failed to care, picked out a mug, filled it half way with cheerios then followed it with a quarter bottle of vodka.

He chowed down.

It tasted exactly like cheerios and vodka which surprised him.

‘Go fuck yourself.’ He said to nobody.

147.

Victoria was working at her new job KFC, (first day) she was currently emptying the deep fat frier, the boiling hot rapeseed oil came gushing out a pipe below the frier into another container.

‘That’s gunna be recycled as bio fuel.’ Said Bob, forty years old, beer belly, a smiley man. ‘Good for the planet. We use up about thirteen million liters every year, no exaggeration.’

Victoria was wearing elbow length rubber gloves, and was scraping the sides of the frier of all the bits of chicken that had fossilized into the wall, then followed with a brush on a handle to properly clean it, until the frier was spotless.  

‘Next up,’ Bob crouched down hooked his hand onto a silver box, and scraped it out onto the kitchen floor, about the size of a mini fridge. He took off the lid and revealed –

‘Is that shit?’ asked Victoria before she could stop herself. ‘Sorry I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Your not far away.’ Said Bob. ‘It’s the parts of the chicken that come falling off and float to the bottom of the frier. We’re gunna use it to make gravy.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, get your scraper.’

So they scraped the container clean, and dropped the gunk into what I can only describe as a bin. Next came water, then a spice packet. It was whisked and cooked, whisked and cooked then sieved to get the chunks out, the thick gravy came pouring into little plastic pots.  

‘GRAVY!’ said Bob.

‘Lovely.’ Victoria muttered to herself.

Next was plucking the bones out the chicken, flouring them by dunking them into a big bucket of the white powder.

‘I remember when I started, we all to wear face masks because there was so much flour in the air we couldn’t breathe!’ he laughed. ‘Got home and showered with my clothes on, so I didn’t have to wake up my room mate with the washing machine.’

Then the wings were placed on and in the stack of racks that would be plunged into the deep fat frier, five minutes later they would be extracted, the food pissing vegetable oil, then chucked into buckets and served.

Then there was emptying the bins.

‘OH MY GOD!’

‘Ha ha, yeah.’ Said Bob.

The bag was piled top to bottom with deep fried chicken that hadn’t even been touched.

‘I think there’s some stat, saying like thirty, maybe forty percent of food just gets binned in America.’ Said Bob. ‘Customers order too much, then waste a fuck bunch of it. I remember before I worked here I was guilty of wastefulness. A chicken was hatched, raised in captivity, butchered and processed, distributed and cooked, so that I could drop it on the sidewalk walking home drunk from KFC.’

‘That’s awful.’ Said Victoria.

‘Yeah.’ Bob said. ‘Anyway.’ He knotted the trash bag and slung it over his back. Victoria took the second bag, and they took it to the trash out back and dumped it.

Then there was the drive thru.

‘So here’s the cockpit,’ he said, pointing out the various bits and pieces and labelling them. ‘Window, cash register, monitor, and your headset.’ He took the headset and planted it on her head. ‘Okay you’re going to be on a timer, and, uh, here’s some advice, if a customers taking too long to order because they didn’t bother to read the menu, ask them to drive round the building and join the back of the queue, cause otherwise there’s a massive build up of cars and you stay two hours late after your shift, which isn’t nice. Got that?’

‘Uh.’ Said Victoria. ‘I think so?’

‘Good gal.’ said Bob. ‘See you in a bit, you’ll be great.’

Victoria sat down and customer 1 arrived a few minutes later.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ said the voice in her headset.

‘Uh, I’m the cashier?’ she replied. ‘What can I get you?’

‘I mean: what ya got?’

Fuck, thought Victoria.

‘Chicken?’ she replied.

Then he began yelling at her.

Eight hours later.

‘How’s your first day?’ asked Bob, slinging on his coat.

‘Pretty good.’ Said Victoria. ‘Thanks for, uh, showing me the ropes and stuff.’

‘Eh, don’t mention it.’ He flapped a hand and dismissed her concerns.

They were outside, and he was locking up shop.

‘G’night!’ he said.

‘Good night.’ she replied, before they walked off in opposite directions.

148.

Victoria scraped her shoes on the welcome mat, opened the door.

‘I’m home!’ she yelled. She heard the buzzing of television voices, then went next door to see her dad was watching Monty Python and the holy grail.

‘Hey dad, how was your day?’ she said, her coat folded over one arm.

Dad didn’t reply, just watched the TV.

‘Dad you good?’

He shrugged.

Victoria didn’t have to put up with this.

‘Okay.’ She said, sighing. ‘I’m gunna make some food, beans on toast, do you want any?’

Dad whispered something.

‘I’m sorry?’

Dad didn’t repeat himself.

‘Okay, well… if you want to talk you know where to find me.’

Dad still didn’t say anything.

She left her dad to pity himself on the couch.

149.

The next day.

Dad was at the kitchen table, his elbow on the table his face slumped over one fist. With the other hand he rang a tall glass with a tea spoon.

‘Dad you okay?’ she asked.

Nothing.

‘Dad, please talk to me.’ Said Victoria. ‘No offense, but this… silent treatment, it’s worrying me a little bit.’

There was a pause.

Dad whispered.

‘You think it’s annoying?’

Pause.

‘A little, yeah.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He said.

Silence.

‘What are you gunna do today?’ she asked.

He shrugged: ‘Dunno.’

‘How about you write a bit? Or exercise.’ she said. ‘That always makes you happy.’

He nodded his head.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Yeah.’ He said. ‘Yeah I’ll write something for when you get back.’

‘Okay and we’ll watch a movie when I get back from work.’

He looked up from the table.

‘Do you have to go to work?’ he asked.

‘A little, yeah.’

‘How about you stay here instead? We could… go to the circus.’

‘You don’t look well enough to go to the circus.’

‘I can go to the circus. I just… need some coffee that’s all.’

‘No.’ said Victoria, smiling. ‘But I’d be happy to watch a movie later today.’

‘Victoria, please I’m very lonely, none of my fiends are calling me back, and, and, and I’m very, VERY tired.’ He gave a heartless laugh. ‘Could you please stay home with me today?’ he looked so hopeful it hurt. ‘Please.’

‘Dad, I’m sorry, but… I’ve got to go to work.’

For a second he didn’t seem to understand, then he nodded. ‘Okay.’ He smiled. ‘Enjoy work. Make lots of friends. I… don’t know what else to say.’ His mouth sort of wiggled.  

‘Okay.’ Said Victoria. ‘Movie tonight?’

Charlie smiled. ‘That would be great.’

‘Okay.’ She smiled, ‘I’ll get some popcorn later tonight.’

‘That would be lovely.’ He said.

‘See you soon.’ She said. She left the house. 

150.

Victoria was mopping, listening to music through her headphones, lips moving in sync with the words. She baptized the floor with holy soap water, purging it of muck and such. She threw out a hip – boom - and drove the mop across the floor, letting the mop swoon in her arms like a forbidden lover, as she silently sang to its handle, before twirling the thing like a tango partner. She was all limbs and kinetic energy, as she scrubbed the floor clean.

‘WOOO!’ said Bob, clapping. ‘You go girl.’

‘SHITFUCK!’ said Victoria in shock. She put a hand to her drumming heart, she yanked out a head phone and paused the music. ‘Sorry I didn’t know you were… I didn’t know you were here.’

‘Ha! You’re just like my wife in bed! Ba-dum-tch.’ He mimed drum set motions.

There was a silence.

‘What?’ said Victoria.

‘Eh, doesn’t matter, I like your moves. You know I was a bit of a dancer long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.’ He made cha-cha-real-smooth motions. ‘Men and women came from miles around to slip 20 pound notes in my thong.’

They were quiet for a moment. Him smiling, Victoria confused.

‘Anyway, I need like a million chicken wings breadcrumbed and baked, could you help with that after you’ve finished waterboarding the floor?’

‘Oh sure, yeah, just give me a sec and I’ll be in the back.’

She was dunking, chicken wings into the frier, taking them out five minutes later. She was whistling.

‘I feel like I’m getting the hang of it.’ She said.

‘I mean yeah,’ said Bob. ‘It’s a really easy job.’

‘Look at my cooking the fuck out of these chicken wings. I’m a god.’

Bob snickered, ‘Yeah you are. I don’t really care as long as you get the food out on time.’

So she fished the bones out of the chicken, careful not to contract salmonella, powdered them and deep fried them, poured the chicken into buckets and served them hot.

On her lunch break she played bingo with some of the older workers and wiped the floor with them.

‘Ha ha losers!’ scooping the jackpot of ninety nine pence to her side of the table.

‘Eh, beginners luck, but it’s impossible to win twice in a row.’

‘Tee hee.’ Said Victoria. ‘Well why don’t you put your money where your mouth is.’

‘Ooooooh.’ Wooed the two middle aged women also working at the table. ‘She’s got you Margaret, she’s calling you out!’

Margaret then put five dollars on the table.

‘No way.’ Said Victoria in awe.

‘Yes way.’ Said Margaret.

‘Well let’s go.’ Said Victoria.

And Victoria WIPED THE FLOOR WITH THEM!

Her phone began to buzz in her back pocket. She checked the caller ID.

‘Oh it’s my dad.’ She said. ‘Bob, I’m just stepping out for a bit to take a phone call?’

‘Be my guest, it’s your break.’

She exited the building, clicking the green-phone symbol and leaning on the brick wall by the dumpster.

‘Hellloooo, I’m at work, what’s up?’ said Victoria.

‘Is this Victoria Brittleson?’ said the voice of a stranger.

‘Uh, yeah, I… I am. I’m sorry who are you?’

‘Meredith Summers. I… don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just dive in the deep end and say it: you’re dad passed away early this afternoon. I’m so sorry for your loss.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean he died in hospital.’ 

The rest of the conversation was blurry, she heard the phrase “committed suicide.”

‘I don’t get it.’ Said Victoria. She was crying.. This felt so much worse. Her voice was very steady. ‘When will he be back?’    

‘He’s dead.’

‘Then bring him back to life, because I’m not going through this shitty, shitty life without him. Use defibrillators or something. I’m just a fucking kid.’ She sobbed.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘DON’T BE SORRY DO YOUR JOB AND MAKE HIM WELL AGAIN!’

‘I’m so-‘

‘He wasn’t even that sad! He told me, he fucking told me, we’d watch movies tonight. How do you explain that, huh? What’s the science of that?’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Fuck off and die.’ Said Victoria.

And she remained outside for five minutes, crying her sorry little heart out, drying her eyes on her uniform sleeve.

She wanted to kill herself, but she went back inside instead.

‘Can I go home please?’ she asked Bob. ‘I feel very sick.’

‘Holy shit, what happened?’ he asked.

‘My dad’s dead.’ She said. ‘I’m sorry, I know it’s just my second day, but I really don’t want to get yelled at by customers right now.’

‘Sure, sure thing. You take the rest of the day off.’

‘Thank you so much.’

She picked up her coat and slipped it on.

‘Oh my god are you okay?’ asked Margaret.

‘I’m fine.’ Said Victoria. ‘I’m… I’m just a bit sad right now. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise and we can play bingo, okay.’

‘Jesus christ, do you need someone to drive you home?’

‘Yes please.’  

151.

‘Dad wake up.’ said Victoria, at eight years old, shaking his arm on the couch. The TV was playing the end credits.

‘Oh.’ his eyes flickered open. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

‘Yeah dad, you missed the ending.’

‘Oh, shoot, I’m sorry sweetheart.’

‘It’s okay, we can just watch it again tomorrow.’

He swung both legs over the side of the couch, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Victoria gave put out both her arms.

‘Aren’t you getting a bit old for this.’

‘No.’ Victoria lied.

Charlie grinned, then scooped her up in a fit of giggles, he had her arms around his neck, then carried her out the room.

He was about half way up the stairs.

‘Hey pumpkin pie?‘ said Charlie.

‘Yes, daddy?‘

‘Can I ask you a favor.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Would you mind, if you stayed exactly the way you are right now? Never got older? Never had to deal with adult problems? I can stay the same age too, that way, I’ll never have to stop carrying you up to bed.’

‘But I want to grow up!’ said Victoria. ‘Being an adult is so cool.’

Charlie grinned. ‘Eh, it was worth a shot.’ he tucked her into bed, and kissed her goodnight.

In the kitchen Victoria was ten, and her dad had a foot on the stool while he failed to play the electric guitar. ‘LOOK AT ME ROCK, VICTORIA!’

‘Dad, please, my ears are bleeding.’

‘But you love me though, don’cha, so it cancels out.’

She got up and kissed him on the temple.

‘Aw shucks I’m blushing.’ He said, grinning his idiotic grin. ‘We need to get you a drum set.’

 ‘I’m fine thank you.’

Two weeks later Victoria was using a pair of spatulas to play an array of pots and pans as if it was a drum set, the both of them were laughing, at the garbage sound they made.

‘We could sell this shit! This beautiful, horrible music! We could make millions!’ said Charlie.

Victoria just laughed.

Victoria was fourteen and eating her bowl of cereal, while dad was heating up a mug of yesterday’s coffee in the microwave, newspaper spread even across the table.

Victoria saw through the microwave’s window, the spoon sticking out the mug.

She looked back at her father distracted by the daily news. He was an adult, he knew what he was doing. Victoria didn’t mention the spoon.

The microwave exploded in a fiery inferno of death.

Victoria screamed.

Charlie grabbed a fire extinguisher, and started swinging it like a baseball bat, beating the microwave until it stopped being on fire.

‘Fuck, that was close.’ He said.

152.

Victoria was twenty and her father was dead. She wanted desperately to stop crying, it was her god given right to stop crying, but she cried anyway until she had a headache.

She entered the house. She heard the twittering of little birdy.

Victoria went to the bird cage, flying in circles. The little bird landed on its swing and started to sing.

Victoria refilled the bird feed, filled up the water supply, then left. It watched her go, head cocked, confused. 

Victoria went to her father’s bedroom, she took out her dad’s pyjamas, stuffed them with blankets, gave it a pillow for a head, swaddled herself under the duvet, and she hugged her DIY dad.

‘I love you dad.’ She said.

She held him for six hours, weeping into the pillow man’s shoulder.

Eventually she fell asleep.

The next day she went through an eight hour shift and didn’t talk to anyone. She had stopped crying.

‘Hey,’ said Bob. ‘If you want… you can take a couple of days off, you’ll get full pay.’

‘I want to work.’ She said.

Bob nodded.

She went to the doctors to get some anti-depressants, a tablet called mirtazapine, she took it and she had more than a full night’s sleep.

She woke up at 11 AM, already two hours late for work.

The pill had made her sleep twelve hours straight.

She rushed into work at eleven thirty.

‘I’m so sorry.’ She said. ‘It won’t happen again, I promise.’

‘It’s fine, really.’ Said Bob. ‘I thought you were taking a day off.’

‘I can make it up, with overtime.’

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I want to.’

The next night she took half a pill of mirtazapine.

She ended up waking in the night, and after two hours trying to get back to sleep, she took the second half of the mirtazapine and woke up at twelve am.

She rushed into work at twelve forty five.

Nobody said anything.

Three hours into her shift: ‘I’ll do overtime.’ She said.

‘Okay.’ Said Bob.

That night she flushed all her mirtazapine in the toilet and got to work on time the next day, even though she only got four hours sleep.

She made sure to feed little birdy every day, and let him fly around the room, he always went to Charlie’s room, as if expecting his best friend to come in at any moment.

The fact that the bird was always going to Charlie’s bed room was freaking Victoria out, so the next day she sold it back to the pet store.

While she was in the self-driving car with the bird cage on her lap, she was speaking to it: ‘Okay, little buddy, you’re going to get a good home, because… I don’t know how to look after you. I hope that’s okay.’

‘Chirp.’ Said the bird, looking at her with its head cocked.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying.’

The bird cage was on the counter.

‘He’ll be happy right?’ Victoria asked the cashier. ‘I just want to make sure, before I hand him over. Make sure he gets a good home.’

‘Of course,’ said the cashier. ‘Every pet here gets a good home.’

Victoria smiled and nodded her head.

‘That’s good.’ When the cashier tried to hand her the cash, she told him to keep it.

She had just stepped outside, when she saw the bird tweeting like crazy and trying to get through the bars.

‘What?’ said Victoria confused.

The doors closed.

Victoria put it out of her mind. It was only late at night she wondered if the bird realized what was happening at the very end.

That it was never going to see Victoria or Charlie ever again.

That it didn’t want a new home.

The next medication she tried was fluoxetine.

It deprived her of even more sleep, and now she was reduced to sleeping three hours a night.

‘Why the fuck didn’t he leave a suicide note?’ Victoria asked Bob. ‘Was I not worth an explanation. What did I do to deserve the silent treatment, huh?’

Nobody said anything. Victoria was vaguely aware that she was upsetting people, that she wasn’t allowed to be pissed off at work, because her dad had killed himself.

So she stopped talking, and when she worked at the cash register she let assholes slur and yell at her drunkenly.

‘Bitch, do you know who I is, I’m fucking Kyle Constantine, I’m a customer, and that means the chickens cold, and when the chickens cold it mens I gets a full fucking refund.’ He paused, then added: ‘Whore.’ 

‘Of course, sir.’ She said ‘My apologies sir. Here at KFC, we try our very best- ’

‘Shut up and gimme my money, back.’

She gave him his money back. 

You should never be angry at the customers, because they were god’s chosen ones, and perfect, and always right.

Eventually she poured all the fluoxetine in the toilet as well. She went back up to five hours sleep a night, which was pretty good. And then she started taking Sominex, an over the counter drug that let her sleep eight hours a night. Not too much, not too little but just right. The goldilocks zone. She realized suddenly that she had been acting like a bitch to her coworkers for weeks, so she went to the super market and bought cupcakes for everybody.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Said Victoria. ‘It was lack of sleep, I was getting three hours a night, I was trying out all these different drugs, and they…’ her excuses sounded pathetic even to her own ears. ‘I’ve been a massive asshole to everyone, and I’m so, so sorry.’ 

‘Victoria.’ Said Bob. ‘There is literally nothing to apologize for.’ He looked around at all the other coworkers. ‘Everyone here has lost someone and we understand.’

It was at that moment that Victoria realized she loved her coworkers.

They were so nice to her, for no reason at all.

They enjoyed some cupcakes.

Victoria wondered quite a lot about why, her dad hadn’t left a note. She had torn the house apart five times over, looking for it.

For weeks she didn’t understand.

Then she did.

Charlie Brittleson had written thirty short stories.

They were all children’s books mostly about lonely, depressed people, learning how to be happy, going on adventures in impossible places. He had poured so much love into every character. And he always ended every book with the same sentence.

They all lived happily ever after.

She had found his unfinished manuscript about the six-armed princess in his room.

Sometimes she thought about finishing it on his behalf, but eventually figured out whatever had driven her father to write so much, just simply wasn’t inside her.

Instead she animated his stories.

Little flip book animations, made of stick figures.

She recorded them on a camera she bought at the charity shop.

She wasn’t very good, but then again she had only just started.

She liked her dad’s stories a lot.

She did all the voice acting, putting on a deep gruff voice for the male characters, and a high sweet one for the women.  

Eventually she finished, and she saw her feeble animations come to life on her ancient computer.

She cried.

She cried because didn’t want to stop working.

Jeremy called her.

He told her he had finally escaped his mother and had bought this house in poor-ville.

‘That’s great Jeremy.’ Said Victoria. I don’t care Jeremy. ‘Jeremy, I’m making movies about my dad’s stories, I can’t do men’s voices, can you please help.’

‘Of course,’ said Jeremy. ‘I’ll be right there.’

Victoria and Jeremy were alone in the office, reading from scripts into a microphone stolen from a karaoke machine.

He put up eggboxes on the walls to soundproof the room, so the audio would be more pristine.

They made movies together.

They were having lots of fun. Jeremy always relished playing the villain roles which he performed with moustache-twirling enthusiasm. Victoria played the school girls and witches and mothers with glee. They took the piss out of one another whenever one of them fucked up an accent. Their toes touched beneath the table when they read from their scripts.

‘I love you, kid.’ Said Mister Marshmallow, a stick figure, putting down a hand to ruffle his child’s head.  

‘I love you too dad,’ said little Miss Marshmallow.

End scene.   

***

Chapter 21