For a bit of fun, we asked The Bell Tower Times to write about the type of
removalist that Able Removals doesn’t hire. Enjoy!
Jaycen awakens to the offensive ringtone of obligation. His boss is calling from outside, “wake up ya bloody peanut! Ya’s late”. He rolls off a pile of dirty laundry and hamfoots it through his bourbon stained boudoir. Like the poster boy for not giving a s***, Jaycen opts against a shower and once again puts undue reliance on yesterday’s deodorant.
As Jayce crawls into the cab, his boss hands him the remains of Woodstock, “oi finish that, I accidentally chucked me cannie”. Jaycen swills the liquid peasantry and almost gags as the miscellaneous floaties hit the back of his throat. Upon completion he swiftly fashions the can into a crude smoking device and looks upon his engineering with pride.
The dynamic duo stop off at the Belmont Foreshore to get higher than a Jockey’s voice riding rawback. “Look son, these poshos have got a pool table, firstly, fuck that for a joke, moving one of them is a prick of a job and secondly, I need a pool table”.
Jaycen rubs some crumbs out of his goatee, “whats the plan then?” A devilish grin comes over his boss’s face, “roight, we tell em it won’t fit in the truck, and if they want us to double back it’ll be another hours fee, plus a heavy load fee, plus overtoiime”. His boss takes a moment to saviour his brilliance, “then i’ll tell em, look, i’ll take it off their hands and we’ll call it even”.
Now 2.5 hours late, Jaycen slowly meanders to the front door. He is met by a hysterical housewife who screechhammers out a list of instructions relating to the precious nature of her furniture. Jaycen nods and grunts while sneaking indiscreet glances down the ladies blouse. “Yeh yeh got it lady, don’t scratch the whatever, we’re not morons ay”. They are.
The pair get to work and seem more concerned with getting the other to walk backwards while carrying heavy furniture, aka “snaking”. Forever the multitasker, Jaycen figures he’ll check who messaged him while simultaneously carrying a heavy glass table. The antique slips from his hand and the unmistakable crack echoes through the house. The pair chuckle in unison, “hu hu hu, cop that”.
Finally, they get to the pool table and Jaycen explains the situation to the client. The lady is already unhappy that the pair have crashed into more s*** than a suburban swervin’ Troy Buswell after a wedding. “Oh, well no, I will have the table donated to charity then, please leave it on the curb”.
Enraged, the pair “accidently” cause severe structural damage via a clumsy snafu. In the boss’ eyes, if he can’t have it, then no one can. They finish loading the truck and just as they are about to leave, the client walks over, “actually darlings, I’ve changed my mind, the table is all yours”.
The boss puts his head in his hands as the weight of his s***wittery dawns on him.
Spewin’.
