Small Rebellion
A short fiction about nothing at all...
Tony was rustling through a pile of mud-stained invoices when Jack swept past, lighter in hand.
"Hold on, Jack, I'll get my coat," said Tony, knocking the invoices into the bin with a deft backhand.
Jack grabbed the hatstand and executed a perfect 180. He came to rest in front of Tony's desk, where he leaned forward and snarled. "What are you talking about?" he raged.
"I'm coming. You get eight fag breaks a day and I get none. Well, bollocks to that."
"But you don't smoke, you obscene pigfucker!"
"That's not the point," said Tony, taking his coat off the hatstand. "Effectively you have half an hour of extra paid break than I do."
Jack shook his head and began to walk away. "You idiot," he said. "It's an addiction, not a chance to skive…and you want to scream blue murder for the sake of the odd five minutes? Why do hell do you want to throw that particular hat into the ring?"
"Goddamn you. I am going to take this fag breaks, and I am going to stand outside, not smoking, and there isn't a damn thing they can do to stop me."
"Sure there is. You'll be whipped like a transvestite in the Vatican. You can't take a fag break and not smoke…the very idea is imbecilic!"
"Rubbish," Tony bellowed, poking Jack in the nose with a paperclip. "If you sit in a smoking part of restaurant, or sit in a smoking carriage in a train, are you forced to light a cigarette? Of course not."
Jack snorted. Together they headed toward the exit, Jack fingering the packet of Silk Cut in his pocket, unwilling even to look at the self-righteous idiot marching beside him.
"You're either a lazy son of a bitch or a fool, Tony," he said, eventually. "Hey, I know. Want one of mine? At least it'll then be legit."
"No thanks. I know my rights. Besides, if I don't get equal fag breaks I'll miss out on all the latest gossip and what's happening in the soaps."
Jack and Tony paused at the door. Tony frowned as he considered what he had just said. He then slapped his head.
"Jesus, you're right, what the hell was I thinking?" he said, beginning to head back to his desk. "Here, you bugger off outside. I'm going to surf the net and scratch my balls for 5 minutes."
Tony was rustling through a pile of mud-stained invoices when Jack swept past, lighter in hand.
"Hold on, Jack, I'll get my coat," said Tony, knocking the invoices into the bin with a deft backhand.
Jack grabbed the hatstand and executed a perfect 180. He came to rest in front of Tony's desk, where he leaned forward and snarled. "What are you talking about?" he raged.
"I'm coming. You get eight fag breaks a day and I get none. Well, bollocks to that."
"But you don't smoke, you obscene pigfucker!"
"That's not the point," said Tony, taking his coat off the hatstand. "Effectively you have half an hour of extra paid break than I do."
Jack shook his head and began to walk away. "You idiot," he said. "It's an addiction, not a chance to skive…and you want to scream blue murder for the sake of the odd five minutes? Why do hell do you want to throw that particular hat into the ring?"
"Goddamn you. I am going to take this fag breaks, and I am going to stand outside, not smoking, and there isn't a damn thing they can do to stop me."
"Sure there is. You'll be whipped like a transvestite in the Vatican. You can't take a fag break and not smoke…the very idea is imbecilic!"
"Rubbish," Tony bellowed, poking Jack in the nose with a paperclip. "If you sit in a smoking part of restaurant, or sit in a smoking carriage in a train, are you forced to light a cigarette? Of course not."
Jack snorted. Together they headed toward the exit, Jack fingering the packet of Silk Cut in his pocket, unwilling even to look at the self-righteous idiot marching beside him.
"You're either a lazy son of a bitch or a fool, Tony," he said, eventually. "Hey, I know. Want one of mine? At least it'll then be legit."
"No thanks. I know my rights. Besides, if I don't get equal fag breaks I'll miss out on all the latest gossip and what's happening in the soaps."
Jack and Tony paused at the door. Tony frowned as he considered what he had just said. He then slapped his head.
"Jesus, you're right, what the hell was I thinking?" he said, beginning to head back to his desk. "Here, you bugger off outside. I'm going to surf the net and scratch my balls for 5 minutes."
posted by Jamie at 4:48 PM
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