I wish to make a complaint.
About unsatisfactory service
received from your minions.
Tempted with glossy ads
promising granted desires
for all prepared to pay the price:
I signed a deal
agreeing transfer of my soul to you
In return, it was stipulated
I’d gain lifelong grandmaster skills
exactly matching those possessed by
former world chess champion
the late Bobby Fischer.
Several weeks elapsed.
Seeing no change
I phoned Daemonic Plc
customer care team.
They assured me complex abilities
might take months developing.
Trustingly, I waited a whole year.
Yet remained on the same mediocre level as before.
Still miscalculating during games.
After ringing again, some details were checked.
Then infernal staff informed me that
due to glitches in data entry
the single “talent” passed
had not been Bobby Fischer’s
or even chess-related.
But, instead (mistakenly)
derived from a certain Nobby Fischer.
An obscure, Scunthorpe based, tobacconist
successful only at completing “easy” crossword puzzles
in his local newspaper!
Given such gross mismanagement
I am appealing to your Luciferian sense
of honour and fair play:
by requesting our contract is immediately
Yours Faithfully, etc.
I hope this matter can be swiftly resolved
without any recourse to
a higher power?
I’m reaching the end of blogging past prose, here.
My attempts at humour have had less appeal than sad poetry.
Writing feels even harder this week as, aside from all my other symptoms,
depression has recently spiked. Pulling me toward giving up altogether,
while enveloping work in an atmosphere of futility.
But I’ve ground out another post, anyway.
Hope you are all well?
Comments are always VERY welcome!
(Art on the blog is mine.)
Thank you for reading.
( anxiety / art / blog / blogging / depression / fiction / humor / life / mental health / poetry / reading / story / writing )