12: maybe I will somehow commission a very realistic, expensive sculpture of Carol’s knee

I tell Ian about the extra shifts when I get home.

Ian says think about all the money I will make.

I think about all the money I will make.

11: quitting

In the staff room I stand in front of the rota which is pinned to the wall. I look for my name. There it is. I look for my next day off. I look along the week and the weekend and into the next week and the weekend after that. I am working every day until the sheet runs out, which is two weeks from now.

Later I find my boss. He is in his office. His head is shining. I tell him about the rota. I ask (very politely) if some sort of mistake has been made.

He says something quickly and confusingly. I only understand about 16% of what it is. I understand that he is apologising and that yes there is a mistake and it is his mistake and he is sorry.

So I ask him when my next day off is.

He says he doesn’t understand.

Then he says something which I don’t understand.

We talk at each other like this for a while, not understanding.

He apologises.

He says I must work the extra shifts.

*

All afternoon I think about it: This isn’t right. It isn’t legal. I must quit. I will quit right now. Etc.

I carry on working.

'supermarket nightmare' chapters 1-10 out loud

i read the first ten chapters of the untitled 'supermarket nightmare' last night at the apple picking society. i like the apple picking society. it's a shame that was the last meeting for a while. there will be more, hopefully, next september. you should come. at the next meeting i will read chapters 11-1,000,000.

i put flyers about the untitled 'supermarket nightmare' on the tables. i printed out 30 flyers. at the end of the night there was only one flyer left. i wonder if any of the people who picked them up have actually come and looked at this. if you are one of the 29 people who picked up a flyer, please leave a comment below. it can just be your name or a swear word or a full stop if you want. i don't think anyone will leave a comment. i would like to be proved wrong about this. increase my optimism.

10: that morning

bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas Carol’s knee bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas

9: 42p

I clock in and go to the store room. The tower is still there. My boss is standing next to the tower. I go and stand next to my boss. We stand there.

He says something fast and confusing about the bananas. It sounds like an apology. It sounds angry and frantic.

I don’t know where to put them, I say.

He says something about piles – about making piles of them around the shop or something.

He goes away.

*

There are other people working in the produce department with me. There are three of us. There should be four of us. One of them has called in sick. I am sort of in charge. We are all standing there looking up at the tower of crates. They are the replenishment assistants. I am the replenishment supervisor. I am making six p more an hour than them.

They don’t give a shit about this job. They are part timers.

Eight times six is forty two.

I will buy one banana with this money and throw it away when I finish my shift.

(publicity)

(untitled 'supermarket nightmare' has just got a mention at Dogmatika.)

8: things that remind me of Carol

The bag of Carol’s things.

A girl I saw walking on Cross Street during my lunch hour.

Pizza Hut.

The sky.

Carol’s knee.

7: Carol's knee

Carol’s knee is trying to breathe. It is trapped under a pair of tights. It is moving a bit as Carol walks to my house to knock on the door and speak to Ian and for Ian to tell her that I am not in and for her to look past him down the hall and hear the sound of a TV and wonder if I am in there watching the TV and listening to them talking and to wonder what the fuck went wrong and to not understand and then walk home again.

It is raining.

Carol’s knee is safe from the rain.

6: replenishment supervisor

My room is almost empty. I am sitting on edge of my bed. My bed is one of the seven things left in my room. My room has almost nothing in it. I am one of the seven things left in my room.

Ian is in the kitchen. He is making pasta. He is shouting up the stairs if I would like some pasta.

Ian does not make very good pasta.

I am scared of Ian’s pasta.

My stomach rumbles.

It is not loud enough for Ian to hear.

*

I worked for six and a half hours today (not counting breaks). I turned the tower of crates into a slightly smaller tower of crates. I transferred the crates from the storeroom to the shop floor. I transferred the bananas from the crates to the banana section. I am a replenishment supervisor. When I finished my shift I bought one of the bananas. I took it into the car park and put it in the bin.

*

Carol is calling again. I am not picking up. I am not here. I am out at the pub. I am dating Sandra from the deli counter. I am in the living room with Ian. I am single.

Ian says I should probably answer it.

The TV is on.

We are watching adverts.

I say there is no point in answering it.

Ian says what does that mean?

I say I don’t know.

5: bag of Carol's things

Two CDs. A hair clip. A sock. Another CD. A book about birds. Three DVDs (Stuart Little, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey, Babe 2: Pig in the City). A magazine. An empty chocolate wrapper. Six hairs I found in my bed. A lipstick.

4: banana memo

I am called to the office. My boss is in the office. His head is shining. He tells me to sit down. He is speaking very quickly. I only understand about 16% of what he says. He is saying something about bananas. It sounds like an apology. He is wringing his hands. On his desk is a memo. On the memo my name is written and then a dash and then the word bananas. He is saying something about a delivery and that I should go and have a look in the storeroom. I have just started my shift. I have been working now for six minutes.

In the storeroom is a tower of something. It nearly touches the roof of the storeroom. All the other things in the storeroom look very small in comparison to it. When I am close to the tower I see that it is a stack of crates. The crates all have the same word written on them.

I stand looking up at the top of the tower for a while. I have been working now for eleven minutes. I put my hands on my hips. I take my hands off my hips. Someone walks past and says something and pats me on the back. They say something about bananas.

I go and get a stepladder from somewhere.

I climb the stepladder. I am climbing the stepladder. I get to the top of the stepladder. I manage to get the top crate off. I carry it back down the stepladder.

I go and get a trolley from somewhere.

I put the crate on the trolley.

Then I climb the stepladder again.

I keep doing this until I have been working for twenty eight minutes.

*

On my lunch break I take my phone out of my coat pocket. Two missed calls from Carol. A message from Carol. It asks me to call her. It says we still have a lot to talk about and that Carol doesn’t understand. It says things were going really well. I think about her knee, probably now under the desk in her office. I delete the message.

I put my hand in my other coat pocket. I think that someone has stolen my cigarettes and lighter. Then I remember throwing them away. I remember throwing away about three quarters of the things in my room and in the living room. I remember accidentally throwing away some of Ian’s things and going and getting them out of the bin and putting them back in the living room.

My phone begins to ring.

I take it out of my coat pocket. I hold it in my hand and look at it.

3: scolded

Now Carol is in the toilet. She is running the taps and maybe standing there looking at herself in the mirror. She is adjusting her hair and looking at the redness of her eyes. She is hating me. I think of her knee in there. It is now back underneath her skirt. It is feeling confused. Like a scolded child.

I don’t understand, she says, standing in the bathroom doorway. The toilet is flushing behind her.

Carol doesn't understand that she is not my girlfriend anymore.

2: my boss

My boss has a bald head.
He tells me what to do.
He is in charge of me.
He speaks very quickly and confusingly.

1: break up with Carol

I am breaking up with Carol. Carol is sitting in the chair. I am breaking up with her. I am telling her that this isn’t working out. I am using the language of television. Carol is looking at her knee. I am looking at Carol’s knee. Carol looks at her knee. Her knee is poking out from under the edge of her skirt. It is white and has a small blue bruise on it. I am breaking up with Carol’s knee. I don’t feel anything. Carol is sniffing. Carol is asking why. I am shaking my head and talking to her knee and telling it that I don’t know. The knee transmits the message to Carol’s brain and she begins to cry.

*

This morning I woke up, panicked, and moved all the things around in my room and then threw some of them away. I made toast. I decided on breaking up with Carol. I am breaking up with Carol. I am throwing away my things. I am putting them in a bin bag and carrying it out to the street.

untitled 'supermarket nightmare' novel

from Sunday 20th of May until Monday 21st of August i wrote an untitled 'supermarket nightmare' novel. i posted one chapter per day. the novel is 100 chapters long. it is just under 15,000 words long. i wrote "one chapter a day, every day, until i die" at the top of the blog. this was just a promotional device. the novel was only ever intended to be 100 chapters long.

there were three competitions.

1) write chapter 50
2) the word-request nightmare
and
3) please carry on writing my novel for me after chapter 100

people entered the competitions.

to see how the novel is carrying on in the capable hands of Duncan Cheshire, please visit this blog.

here are chapters 1-100:

1: break up with Carol
2: my boss
3: scolded
4: banana memo
5: bag of Carol's things
6: replenishment supervisor
7: Carol's knee
8: things that remind me of Carol
9: 42p
10: that morning
11: quitting
12: maybe I will somehow commission a very realistic, expensive sculpture of Carol’s knee
13: then Ian's pasta again
14: dream of my boss's head
15: knee barnacle
16: rotting
17: my wives
18: Ian's mum
19: optimism
20: pessimism
21: something apples
22: two things at once
23: peach stone
24: note tied to peach stone
25: sorry
26: new girl
27: bananas
28: baked potato heaven
29: buffing
30: pause
31: apples
32: calm orange light
33: Ian?
34: Carmella vs. Carol
35: disappointment
36: Linda
37: worried moth
38: TO DO:
39: pep talk
40: dog biscuit
41: traitor
42: suicide attempt
43: sex dream
44: walk to work
45: mulsh
46: coats
47: the Philippines
48: nothing
49: -99%
50: it's one small step for Carol's knee
51: new manager
52: The Turtle
53: standing
54: google
55: birthday
56: alone
57: tita
58: www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&q=Carol%27s+knee&btnG=Google+Search&meta=
59: 'early'
60: sex dream #2
61: walled city
62: joke
63: direct competition
64: peach fountain
65: invite
66: lost dog
67: lost housemate
68: the police
69: tea
70: break up with Carol, again
71: cloud
72: Carol, sitting there
73: sex dream #3
74: clocking in
75: basic worry
76: then
77: hey
78: confidential
79: new number
80: surprise
81: sorry
82: fired
83: yanking
84: so when do you want to come round to my tita's house for dinner?
85: tonight
86: new plan
87: the sack
88: best shirt
89: charm
90: adobo
91: great
92: cigarette
93: what? etc.
94: Dear Carmella, how are you?
95: kiss
96: salad
97: thank you x 100
98: popped out
99: sex dream #4
100: I will quit today

L shape

From where I stand at work, I can watch the old people fall down the stairs. Old people falling down the stairs at work at the rate of two or three per hour. They are usually old women. Old women falling down the stairs. Old women making up around ninety percent of the total percentage of old people falling down the stairs at the place where I work. Ninety percent is a lot of old women.

Sometimes I think my job at work is to stand here behind the desk and watch old people fall down the stairs.

Whenever an old person falls down the stairs, I feel something in my stomach. The feeling starts at the top of my stomach then goes downwards and then it goes across the bottom and towards the left. It goes in an L shape. The old women and men, falling down the stairs, are communicating L shapes into my stomach.

My working day goes like this: Sell book, L shape, wait around, L shape, sell book, L shape, etc.

An old woman falls down the stairs.

An L shape is drawn in my stomach.

Then the L shape is gone, but the old woman is still there, and a crowd has gathered to watch, and a member of staff is telling people not to use the stairs, and to please use the lift in the back, and we are waiting for the paramedics to arrive.

new stuff + strange pot plant

i have an interview on the Paris Bitter Hearts Pit blog. they are also featuring my short story My Wife and the Moustache.

this is probably the final nail in the coffin of moustaches. at least for a while.

also, three other new short stories on websites:

Email to a Cat at Six Sentences. (someone has written a strange comment about this one. maybe 'strange' is the wrong word, but the comment made me feel strange when i read it.)

Doors Closing at Straight From the Fridge.

On Mugging at Dogmatika.

i still feel strange now, but this is nothing to do with the comment. i have gotten over the comment now.

i feel like a pot plant in a room with no windows. i am waiting for the room to grow windows, because i can only think of things in terms of 'growing' because i am a pot plant. i am not even waiting, really, for windows to grow, because i don't know what windows are either. i am just waiting.

who is henry silt?

my short film 'Who is Henry Silt?' is now showing over at the Paris Bitter Hearts Pit blog. this film is now over two years old, but i still quite like it. i made it when i was living at home over the summer before i moved to manchester. i didn't have a cast or a camera or anything, so i used myself and my parents and borrowed my cousin's camera.

i will also have a short story called 'My Wife and the Moustache' and an interview on their blog sometime soon.

short novel

Dear Editor of Penguin Books,

Please find below my short novel 'The Man in the Road' for your consideration. Seeing as the novel is only eight words long, I thought it might be okay to just copy and paste it below. However, if you would prefer to receive the manuscript separately - double spaced, with title page and word count, etc. - then i will be more than happy to oblige.

I wish you all the best with your future publications and wait hopefully for your reply,

Chris Killen

The Man in the Road

We were watching the man in the road.