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A Warm Gun
December 09, 2004, 10:29 p.m. Like some sort of latter-day Cinderella, I spent the better part of my five-hour work shift flat on my face in the dirt, pulling dust-bunnies, discarded packaging, discontinued stock and all manner of other detritus and debris from beneath the shelves in aisles four, five and six. We’re doing stocktake, see. And what do you think I managed to pull from beneath the shelves in aisle six? A g-string. Yes, that’s right – a g-string. A thong. Bum floss. A black Bonds g-string. I have no idea how it got there, and I really think I prefer it that way. Even more ways in which I am not like other people: my default setting is ‘happy’. People are constantly asking me what I’m smiling about when I’m just walking around, doing my own thing. Most of the time I wasn’t even aware that I was smiling. And most people I know seem to have their default setting at ‘unhappy’. Elf-boy suggests that this is because they’re intelligent, and most intelligent people are unhappy. Which is sad, for me; the main reason I am happy is because I’m intelligent, and I get to spend time around intelligent people. Maybe it’s not that I am happy and everyone else is unhappy, but that I consider myself happy. Maybe I just look at the neutral state that is my default setting, and go “Well, I’m not unhappy, so I must be happy.” And everyone else goes “I’m not happy, so I must be unhappy.” Maybe. Still doesn’t change the fact that I’m different to everyone else. Not everyone else, but everyone who’s important to me. Maybe I’m making a big deal about this, but it makes me feel oddly disconnected from the people I care about.
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