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TO HELL WITH OBLIVION

Why is it often quite likely that when you hang laundry outdoors to dry that a bird will come along and relieve itself on at least one piece of that laundry, either that or it begins to rain, then why is it considered that when this happens, the release of bird droppings that is and not the rain, to be something ... lucky?

I find it in no way lucky to be shit upon by a bird, nor do I find it lucky if I so happen to step into a lump of poop left in the wake of some animal or other, dogs mostly likely, and even worse, I hate being informed of my impending luck once a poop incident has occurred.

You know, something you might often hear, whether in jest or with cynicism, is that if it weren't for bad luck then the person expressing such a remark would have no luck at all. There is the school of thought that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, your potential bad luck laying the groundwork for someone else's potential good luck. That may be true in certain circumstances but with chance, can the opposite be exactly equal? Surely not with every iteration but it probably does level out in the long fun.

Oblivion – the condition of not remembering – a place of conscious unconsciousness, where a lack of hope lives, where a sense of helplessness is strong, a place where one may no longer give a shit, a state where one may be completely unaware of anything, or everything, which goes on around them.

There once was a man who allowed his own bad luck to almost take him all the way into oblivion. It began simply then escalated out of control to the point where it felt all control had been lost. It was only when he got within inches of oblivion that he had stopped and deliberated some, then deciding that it was time to make a choice. To fight or to die, to live or to lose – and in that decision he thought that oblivion could go right on and make its own way straight to hell.

The road may feel lonely though ultimately would not be taken alone. Thing is, is he joining another? Or is that other ... joining him? Perhaps all along, it was meant to be a mutual journey for two.

1.

Harvey Ellis is awake, as awake as awake can be, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, a full hour before his alarm is due to go off. There is a struggle to return to slumber but return to it he does. The alarm sounds, what feels like, no more than two minutes after regaining unconsciousness.

This new moment of awareness is not the same as the last. Harvey is groggy, shattered, and if anything, he feels as if he got no more than two-minute sleep all night, and of course, this isn't true. Why is it always such this way, groggy and shattered in this moment, the moment when one must rise, when an hour previously he was as awake as awake could be?

Reluctantly, he gets up and begins his day as he normally would. He briefly debates whether or not as to if he should take a cold shower. Such a thing would certainly wake him up, though, if he can help it, he'd rather not have any more unpleasantness come his way. It's a big day on the cards, a big client deal on the table to start the working day off. But before that, and as things would have it, the shower is not as warm as he would like it, it is not exactly cold, but cool enough to be on the wrong side of pleasant.

Once dressed, fed, and ready to rock, he checks the time and sees that there is just enough of it to get in to his place of work on time. That would be true if it weren't for the fact, he needs to stop off at a petrol station and top up or risk running out before he can get to a station on the way home later that day. He knew he should have done this the evening before, but he just wanted to get home and now he had to suffer for that decision.

When he next checks his watch, Harvey sees that he has made the trip to a petrol station in good time to the point he may actually arrive to his next destination on time. Hurdles will still present themselves of course and he is informed of the first upon arrival the station. Over the fore-court speaker, information comes. Due to a fault, only cash is being accepted at the till. That's fine. Harvey has a twenty on him, he can get more cash later if he needs it, so it's twenty worth of fuel for the time being.

And wouldn't you know it, just as he is about to enter the store, he opens his wallet to take out that twenty and before he can get a good strong grasp of it, a gust of wind takes it from him. That breeze takes the bank note up, up, and away in a manner that offers Harvey no chance of retrieving it, no matter how he tries.

He tries to explain to the store assistant what had happened, but the assistant is not having any of it ...

'Sorry sir, I did warn you beforehand that it was cash only ...'

'And I told you I had cash. I had my mishap entering this very store ...'

'Well, if you head to the next nearest A.T.M you can come back to me with the cash.'

'Do you mind if I do that at lunch time? I'm a little stuck for time.'

'With all due respect, that is not my problem sir. I need the cash payment before you leave.'

'Then how do you suggest we solve our dilemma?'

'As I suggested ... that A.T.M sir, our machine is out of order so if you leave your vehicle here as an assurance of your return, you could be gone and back in fifteen minutes.'

'Leave my car, do you know how much it's worth? Can I see your manager?'

'I'm sorry sir, management won't be in for another hour. You are free to wait.'

A crowd has grown behind Harvey. The lady behind him throws her eyes to the heavens.

'Can I help you ma'am?'

'Yeah, you could hurry up there a little.'

Harvey clenches a fist, though he manages to refrain himself, even with the next suggestion that comes his way, or rather the next person behind him to come forward.

'I could always call for security ...' the store attendant says remaining as calm as he has been all along, urging Harvey to step aside. To Harvey this is not a calm moment.

'You do that ...'

Harvey vacates the store, gets into his car, and off he goes. His rage is released, several times before he arrives five minute late to work.

'You're late ...' his co-worker partner tells him.

'No shit ...'

'Clients are waiting ...'

'Already?'

'Yep.'

As if things couldn't get worse, the presentation he had at the ready for this day, does not go well. It seems rushed, forced, needy. The account is lost. Harvey's apologies may as well be worthless. And indeed, it keeps on coming. At approximately mid-day, two police officers arrive looking for Harvey and they are intent on settling for arrest only.

Harvey's car registration had been recorded at the petrol station and his possible whereabouts were determined from there. Arrest for leaving a gas station without paying a receipt of twenty dollars may seem excessive but there are three counts of road rage after the event and one count of dangerous driving breaking a red light to add to his troubles, the store assistant may be looking into harassment charges too.

To add to his woes, Harvey is told that when the dust settles, he can go search for new employment elsewhere away from the company he has spent years with. It could be easy now to go the distance and resist arrest and lose himself completely, no point in making things any worse than they already are, really. There could be various types of meltdown happening in this moment and none of them would be helpful.

2.

Gerard April has been left behind by his country and by those who he once thought he could count on. Six tours of duty overseas change him as much as they could change any man. The resources, if there ever were any, were not shown to him upon his final return home, well not to the standard it could have been. Indeed, a changed man, a troubled man, the years pass all too quickly, and Gerrard comes to a point where he no longer has a place to lay his head down other than on a bed of cardboard on a street corner.

It's early morning and four youths find humour in ruffling up he who is unconscious before them. One even inquires as to 'is he dead?'

Another, not quite kicking the man laying before them, pushes his left boot into the mid-section.

Gerard wakes and mutters incomprehensible cursing, unsure if he is in the current moment or if he is battling away in a moment from many moons' past. A gasp or two has the four friends take a step or two back, though not for long. Their interference with the stranger occurs for a matter of mere seconds, and there is nothing mere about it from Gerard's vantage point. He hears explosions and gunfire and reacts accordingly.

Haste was made with the ridicule of a man down and out when a respect of his past would have been more or a right call though scum has little intelligence. Charity and sorrow should be felt and given. Instead, there is laughter and jest but this kind of assault us all too frequent in occurrence to those of Gerard's kind.

How did life get like this? You serve your country, only to be discarded like a piece of trash. Life should not be like this. And then a moment to savour comes, an infrequent event that can be nothing other than a gift from the Gods, if there actually are any in existence. A twenty-dollar bill wafts by. If he hurries, Gerard can claim it as his.

His intruders don't see the note, and they jest more in a mad-man's chase of something they did not notice. It takes a moment or two until a reward is collected. Distance between himself and those intruders is such that they'll no longer be of menace in this moment, so, a certain joy can be taken in receipt of one of life's little pleasures.

Entering a store in a condition such as his is something not easy. Being more present in the moment now, Gerard displays proof that he can afford to purchase something, he is still told to be quick about it. He is not going to be quick, he is going to enjoy his brief shop around, even with the knowledge he will be followed the whole time he is here.

A bread roll, with as many items on it as will fit, along with a good warm coffee and a scratch card is what he purchases. Gerard is a happy man, and this more than pleasant feeling is not going away anytime soon. The roll and coffee are savoured, for who knows when he may see their like again.

Anticipation is allowed to build. If the scratch card is not to be fruitful, it will at least allow him time to daydream. And as the scratch card is played, long after his other items are consumed, a joy arrives which cannot be true. It is true. The scratch card makes him a recipient of a fifty thousand grand prize. Fifty grand ... oh my.

3.

Three days have passed. A serious problem has presented itself to Gerard April. He has no fixed abode therefore, according to rules stated in fine print on the scratch card, making him exempt from collecting the card's grand prize.

Harvey Ellis is out walking aimlessly. His court case comes round in ten days' time, and he has been advised that he may have to bite the bullet on this one. He has come upon a bridge, a walkway over thirty feet from the ground, passing over a motorway. How easy it would be for someone to simply jump from such a height. Oblivion may be hovering though Harvey is not at such a point in his life, but he can imagine perhaps being there one day. For now, he won't allow any kind of ethereal place to ask questions of him.

Imagination still exists high up on that bridge. If the fall weren't going to do it, then the traffic surely would. How little attention everyday people pay to their surroundings. Harvey may not take up his thoughts at this moment though not one passer-by considers asking him as to if he is alright. Yeah, out of all the passers-by, no one asks him if he needs any help, no one that is, until a certain homeless man so happens to come his way.

Gerard April stands and observes for a few minutes, unsure as to how he may be received by an everyday person. Gerard is well aware of his own appearance. Of the two men, Harvey is the one who makes first contact.

'What do you want?' he asks.

There is about thirty feet or so between the men and Gerard raises a finger, but it is Harvey who speaks again.

'Forget it, don't answer that. We both obviously have our own problems, there is no need for either of us to come talk to the other ...'

'Oh, but there is ...'

Strange how a statement of dispute like this one intrigues Harvey. He would think he would rather be left be at this time but there is a certain something to this ... coming together. It is as if this moment is meant to be. Perhaps it is meant to be. There is a slight hesitation before Gerard shows Harvey the scratch card.

'Why are you showing me this? Does it not worry you that I might just take it from you?'

'I am homeless, therefore unable to collect the prize. It says so right there in the rules ...'

'So? What do you want me to do about that?'

'Cash it and give me half?'

'Half, really?'

'Yes, you probably can use it as much as I can, besides, half of such a prize is better than none of it.'

'This is true.'

'I am Gerard.'

'Nice to meet you Gerard, my name is Harvey.'

The court case hanging over Harvey eventually results in a fine, to which he can now easily pay given recent circumstances, and a small number of community service work hours are additional, to which he is happy to complete. It could have been so much worse. A brief encounter upon a bridge brings about a lasting friendship. Luck, good or bad, or both, has seen to something most certainly worthwhile.

Oblivion? Well, that so happened to be the name of the company Harvey had spent years working for. To let him go so quickly and easily rather than to back him and thank him for all the good he had brought them. To hell with oblivion. Indeed, they can rightly go to hell. When the time comes, there will be plenty of work available for Harvey to consider. He may have a need for add on a partner at that too.

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