THE TEXT

The Life of Henry Fuckit
(1950 - 2015)

 

21   He decides to resign for the sake of his health

"Mister Puckit, good morning to you, and I think we are both aware that we are paid to work from eight-thirty in the AM and not eight thirty-two. But, be that as it may, I wish to remind you of the retirement today of Mr Snow." Henry had clean forgotten. Well, he must write him a nice sentimental note and chat to him for a while. But unto where the hell had that verminous rodent disappeared? It had seemed to know exactly where it was going. Probably the basement, or somewhere. No matter; without a doubt it had been some kind of a sign and his mind was made up. He went to his desk and immediately took pen and paper and began to compose a letter to the Manager. After half an hour he had several pages covered with his unruly handwriting. It was a rambling complaint about his feelings of boredom, revulsion and humiliation. He even mentioned rats and the plague.

 

Gloomily Henry sat hunched over his desk. Then with a snarl he ripped the sheets of paper to shreds and threw them at his wire-mesh wastepaper basket. What did he care whether the building was infested with rats? Let them all die of the Black Death. The world would be a better place without the likes of the Manager, the Assistant Manager and the Chief Clerk. He saw himself in the middle of Greenmarket Square happily putting a torch to the pyre and watching the flames consuming their entangled bodies. Once again he put pen to paper and addressed the Manager.

Dear Sir
I hereby give notice of my intention to leave your employ at the end of December.
Yours faithfully,
Henry Fuckit

It was the Chief Clerk's duty to disburse the salary cheques on the last Friday of the month. He arrived at Henry's desk at twelve forty-five, just before lunch, and proffered the envelope. Henry detected something different in the unpleasant features. The normally sharp lines of meanness had softened into a sneer that was unmistakably gloating.

"This is for the Manager," Henry said, and they made the exchange. The older man's sneer slipped away to be replaced by a look of peevishness.

"What's this, then?" he demanded, annoyed at being in the dark.

"Something for old Sharkface's eyes only. I'm sure he'll inform you about it when he's ready."

Contact Us | Terms & Conditions

Copyright © IanMartin.co.za 2011