I’m Dreaming Of A White Christmas In Australia, Brought About Due To What Is Known As ‘Nuclear Winter’.

Guess where I am? If you said the University library (one of my favourite procrastination destinations) then you would be right. If you also said that I am standing right behind you…that is also right. Because I am. Feel that. That’s me. Breathing. Really close.

What? I don’t even understand what just happened but I feel like one of us needs to take a shower (and since we’ve already established that I’m in the University library and have no way of doing so without causing a scene and severe water damage to University property…I feel like it’s you) and that this game needs to stop, whatever this game is. “Charlie give me those dice! No. No more I say!” I now have the bastard’s dice…

Right, so as we have established I am in the library, situated in a corner that enticed me with its empty promise of a power point, but alas this was just a dirty trick and I can’t get up and sit somewhere else because I sat down and got comfortable and set up all my stuff and moving now would look foolish and I just can’t deal with the collective judgement of miscellaneous students today. So just get off my back okay? This is where I’m staying, even if it means my laptop battery withers and dies like my self-esteem with every ‘Thank you sending us an email with your CV but we’re just not interested in taking you on as an intern’ I receive. Which is one. I’m bad at rejection…

I had every intent when I wandered into the library (that makes it sound like it was accident, but I assure you I did deliberately set out to arrive at the library today) to tackle my first assessment task (due tomorrow), which is a five-minute pitch about…myself…and my particular set of skills…not unlike those employed by Liam Neeson in that movie. Anyway, it’s obvious I have blown that off and turned my attention to other things. It’s not that I’m lazy, I actually do have some dot points, but I’m kind of excellent at spinning bullshit so I figure there’s not much more I can write except some of the stuff I’ve outlined for other things. Besides it’s only five minutes. I could talk for five minutes on anything, easy. In fact this, so far, has taken me five minutes to write and it’s rubbish. So there’s no stress there, it’s not an essay. Not that I’m proactive about those either.

So 400 plus words in and I haven’t said much of anything. Congratulations if you’re still reading. Your prize is a cake in shape of your favourite disgraced American president (Nixon, you’ll always have a soft spot in my heart, for the sheer ballsiness that accompanied your flat-out denial of everything). But all jokes aside I sat down today to test drive an idea. I’m currently in the process of working through ideas and concepts for my Major Project which will take up the bulk of my life this year, and essentially I wanted to test out some of the characters etc for the concept I’m currently toying with (because let’s be honest, this monster will change and switch faces so many times it could be the written equivalent of a love child belonging to Joan Rivers and Frankenstein’s Monster). And once more into the breach, ladies and bearded counterparts!

Dave At The End.

Have you ever noticed how when the Apocalypse hits everyone is suddenly insanely useful, or at the very least when the atomic dust storms dissipate they are revealed to have a transferable set of skills that suddenly come to aid of those around them?

Like all those years of studying taxidermy now come to the fore when identifying toxic mutations in animals, making them impossible to digest and therefore saving hundreds from food poisoning?

But what about the others?

What about those people who were utterly useless before the Apocalypse? Surely they didn’t all just die or become spontaneously good with a crossbow? What about the people who, under normal circumstances, had such a limited, non-transferable skill set that they struggled in the Pre-Apocalyptic society?

Take Dave for instance.

He spent the last 26 years perfecting his uselessness…he’s not about to change that just because the dead begin walking and the phrase a ‘sun shower’ gets a whole new, dangerous meaning. What about the ‘Daves’?

They end up here.

Welcome to Outpost 128: Sheeps Stations. A resource and census outpost located halfway between anywhere and nowhere. Here the humble employees amuse themselves by performing menial tasks and hiding from monsters. Just because the world ended, doesn’t mean that middle management did too.

Yes there are wars being fought elsewhere, and yes sometimes it snows in the middle of the outback, and sure there are groups of highly organised spider-people who have made it their function and goal in life to eat most of humanity…but there are reports to make, files to sort and records to update.

This is the Post-Apocalyptic story of everyone else.

Dave was a loser.
And then the world ended.
And Dave was still a loser.

The idea would follow the day to day life of Dave, our idiotic protagonist, as he negotiates office politics, insane human resources demands, inter-office football and tries to prove to everyone that he’s not totally useless…all against the backdrop of an amalgamated Apocalypse. There’s mutated animals, zombies, savages, Mad Max inspired idiots, environmentalists, government stooges, hipster demons and a pair of lost celestial beings wandering around out there.

So that’s Dave. Maybe more to come. Maybe. Don’t hold me to anything. I’m not very adhesive and I’m actually quite clumsy. Anyways it’s time to get back to doing the thing I was doing before I got here.

Treed.

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1 Comment

Filed under Creative Catharsis, Life & Times Of

One response to “I’m Dreaming Of A White Christmas In Australia, Brought About Due To What Is Known As ‘Nuclear Winter’.

  1. I’m honestly sad that the tag ‘what is the deal with joan rivers face?’ did not yield any more results.

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