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DOOKIE: A COLOURFUL LIFE
CHAPTER 6
Careful; trigger warning / language
DOOKIEBOOKS.COM
RAISED MORALE
Over the next few days Dookie set about making public his dismay at some smaller issues in the marketplace
He set his sight on a small but significant item he felt all the staff would support him in. Getting the water turned back on! Who are these evil fuckers, Saddam Hussain!
The ever-failing water supply to the market was an annoyance for everyone. The taps in the toilets would rarely work or work properly and the toilet flush was something of a Christmas event in the staff areas. Management always proclaimed it was a bigger issue with parts unavailable or frozen pipes because it’s cold or expanding and leaking joints in the heat but through the years these various issues only ever affected staff amenities, never customer ones, deli or bakery supplies. Bottom line, Dookie aint washing his hands in the river no more!
Our hero waited for Nikel’ lunch break that day. He followed him to the staff area and waited for him to start on his lunch; the usual floppy, sad, little plastic ham sandwich he ate every day.
Our hero pounced! Smashing through the door into the busy lunchroom he grabbed a cereal bowl and began to fill it with hot water from the tea urn. One of the checkout operators asked him what he was doing, and he responded loudly in a frustrated tone.
“Washing my fucking hands!”
He splashes his hands messily into the small bowl spilling water everywhere.
“I’m sick of going to the river to do this shit, this ain’t some village in poorest Africa! we’re supposed to be in a first world country with running water god damn it!!!”
The crowd of staff in the lunchroom all nod and nervously agree with him.
Nikel stands to his feet. Throws his floppy sandwich on to the lid of his little yellow lunch box and storms out of the room. Gone for just two or three minutes he returns, calm. Sits back down and returns to the sandwich without a word.
Dookie finishes drying his hands and begins to leave the room. All the while waiting for the shrill voice of the bell end, eating his floppy sandwich to scream out – ‘my office Mr Dookie’. But it didn’t happen. Tupps entered the lunchroom at that precise moment and proclaimed the water was on!!!! Showing his hands, clean as they were to the whole room.
Nikel shrunk in his chair.
D.C. masturbated.
Cheers rang out through the room! Nikel swallowed the last of his floppy sandwich and left the room abruptly. A change in the wind maybe.
After the big water win, everyone was on a major high. Except for the hipsters who had decided it would be better if we milked, whiling only; rats, badgers and other such useless vermin and washed ourselves in their milk. Better for the environment and our skin they proclaimed!
Unfortunately, it was a strange, usually quiet hipster type that had been the most vocal over the next few days. Petitioning this stupidity to management as he did, this weird confused little fella was taken to see the elusive market leader. When he re-emerged from her darkened office, he was wearing a trainee manager’s badge and told everyone he was being sent to a new market to train!??
Our hero was pulled, quietly into the staff training room by a few of the sad little manager types that same afternoon. They questioned and poked at him about the statements he had made in regards to the water works in the previous days.
With the giant interrogation spotlight pointed directly at him, our hero took them on. Playing stupid, nice but dim, as if he didn’t recall. They had their paperwork filled out, their tight little angle to justify publicly flogging and then sacking him, signed, in advance by both the elusive market leader and Dastardly Di the Dick. They would have got away with it too if they hadn’t got the date wrong! Stupid fucks. Our hero settles for an informal chat regarding the swearing, and they release him back to the wilds of the shop floor.
The winds kept coming along. The checkout operators asked for the boards to be taken down so they could see out of the windows again like in the 80’s. Nikel, in this strange, weakened state he seemed to be in, had his unhappy managers oblige. The market hadn’t seen daylight since 1987 when Miguel had thrown his dummy out of the pram over the cleaners only cleaning the windows once a month.
As the boards came down the light forced its way through the layers of dust and grime on the glass to fill the entire marketplace. The staff and 3 customers were knocked back at the sight! Bats in the rafters took flight searching out new hideouts to rest and yes. D.C. masturbated!
The powers that be quickly found out about this possible motivational moment and moved quickly and relentlessly to cut all extra working hours on any market stall! Those hours would now be spent scrubbing the marketplace with scrubbing brushes inside and out. Weeks this went on for. Forcing everyone in the marketplace to scrub and paint. Well, everyone except the cleaners and maintenance guys. They were left in the staff room doing fuck all! What was this madness?
The weeks ticked by. Years of dirt were removed from the building not being cleaned and maintained correctly due to cuts and personnel mismanagement.
Now clean, the staff were ordered to paint. Soon it was gleaming with new white paint everywhere. The marketplace staff all blistered and tired would now have to stand an inspection by Dastardly Di the dick.
Dastardly Di the Dick entered the marketplace with an entourage of suited men following him on their knees. Permanently poised at his posterior in hope to taste at least a fart, they hissed their lengthy and skilled tongues at the staff they begrudged employing so much.
Dastardly Di the Dick, stood on the back of one of these small, suited men, to address both the marketplace he was in and the many Hellmarts watching online. During his speech he spat lies about this ‘relaunch’ being part of his grand scheme along with his empire’s failing share price.
“A new and improved shopping experience for our valued customers”
Is the line he used.
As the broadcast finished Dastardly Di stepped off the ass lickers back and walked directly to the market leader, who was still just peeping out from the safety of her office. Her protective layer of managers parted ways to allow their beloved leader access to her. He stopped just inches from the slightly open doorway and asked her:
“who”?
The market leader raised her right arm and pointed out of the door at Nikel. Talk about being thrown under the bus!!
Dastardly Di the Dick wrapped his left arm around the shoulders of the quivering quim Nikel and began to pace him to the door. Nikel, urinating down his right trouser leg, left a moist trail of fear as he was led outside.
The staff looked on through the newly cleaned and usable windows as Nikel was laid out on the car park’s tarmac. Forced down and heckled at by the excited group of morally corrupt ass lickers, the moist man froze in fear.
Dastardly Di the Dick approached his entourage’s double decker bus and stepped into the driver’s seat. He turned the key and revved the diesel engine, blowing planet killing smoke from the exhaust pipe he slammed the bus into first gear and floored it! Laughing out loud he drove the bus straight over Nikel. Tump tump! The noise made by the bus’s front and back wheels alike. Flat as one of his floppy little sarnies, Nikel looked dead. Truly thrown under the bus by the elusive market leader.
Dastardly Di dismounted the bus and his ass lickers clambered over themselves to sniff the seat he’d left behind. He reached down and picked the broken Nikel up and calmly said one thing.
“This will cost another 5000 jobs”
He laughed and walked calmly to his private helicopter. Ushered in by his pilot they then took off and flew back to the dragon’ capital.
The ass lickers took off in the bus; driving like a maniac boy racer in the car park and hanging out of the windows flipping the staff off and screeching the bus’s tyres as they hit the road.
Nikel, broken and crying like a baby, was left where he stood. Dookie seized the possible moment of weakness in the broken demon and approached.
“You ok dude? Do you need a ride home or anything?”
He asked.
“No. Thanks though. That guys a proper prick! He’ll get his one day”
Replied Nikel.
The opening was there! The man beneath the corporate demon was still alive and kicking in there. Maybe this was a step too far from Dastardly Di the Dick, because it certainly seemed as if the man spoke then, not the demon! Maybe the scales tipped.
It would be some weeks before Nikel returned to the market.
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