A lone salesman loses his job at the couch store. They don’t only sell couches. They sell carpets too. -Well that is that, the lone salesman says. -My contract expired, and we are low on work. It had to happen someday. -I am heading home for the last time from this fucking building. -Fuck my boss.
2 days after his last day he goes to the unemployment agency to see if they got another sales job somewhere. If he can sell a couch he can sell anything. He assumes. Though he has not soled a lot for the year he worked there. -I got nothing. The lady at the agency says. Just some cleaning jobs.
If you work everyday and after you get fired and sit a week home alone you get a bit irritated. He does not drink a lot anymore, but still smokes. -What can I do, what can I do he whispers. Staring at the wall. -Oh I know, I can write poems. Just to fill the time. It is like a diary for these awful days. Just a reminder on how this was a bummer.
All of a sudden he got an idea. I will write a story about a guy who gets unemployed and gets in all kind of crazy adventures. He turns on windows XP and starts writing the most amazing stuff. This is gold he thinks. In no time he has like 20 pages of his new book. -I know what I call it? -The couch seller.
-Ok, tomorrow I will finish another 20 pages. I will write like 20 pages each day till it is done. Let’s save these pages. His finger goes to the left of the screen to click save as a message pops up. It says installing updates. And his computer shuts off and reboots.
He walks over to the couch, grabs a beer and lights a smoke. Tipping his ash on the carpet.