The Chill Out room.

Jeff sat at the bottom of the stairs with a concerned frown, conscious that the days next task of lying in the hallway for a bit was being disrupted by copious amounts of too-ing and fro-ing by people he’d rather not have to put up with.
There were men in the house, men in cargo trousers and polo shirts splattered with paint. Men carrying boxes of stuff from a van to the living room. Men standing around having tea and banter whilst their anal crevasses slowly revealed themselves as if they were the subject of investigation during a game of Guess Who?
Men talking about current affairs and news with information gleaned from a newspaper sprinkled with comment and analysis from a pair of tits every few pages. Men whose limited knowledge and skill set extended to to knowing exactly what it takes to get the best from a professional footballer despite being lazy, overweight Sunday Leaguers whose only ability on the pitch is being able to “snap that cunt in half”.
Jeff saw this and he didn’t like it. He found them to be entirely disagreeable and had no desire to be touched or petted by rough hands with cracked skin filled with dried oil. He was recoiling from hands all over the place as he was forced further and further up the stairs to avoid being molested by these grubby individuals.
As a cat, Jeff understood the value of personal hygiene and grooming. He would spend upwards of four hours each day just licking his own balls so, in his mind, it’s entirely reasonable to expect anyone else who wished to touch his pristine coat to have paws as immaculate as his. He continued to observe the movement of the men and their objects, perplexed at what all this newness was for but quietly excited by the prospect of empty cardboard boxes and bubblewrap.

Susan was also in the house, reading a book she’d picked up from a Facebook buy and sell group called “Stars, Crystals and You”. It was in great condition, a bargain for 20p, almost as if someone had read the first page, dismissed it as utter bullshit and put it up for sale at the same price as a Freddo. This book was also responsible for the hubbub that so concerned Jeff. The men were delivering flatpack furniture destined for Susan’s new ‘Chill Out room’. Recently, Susan had begun to feel overworked; she’d spent four consecutive days at the stationary shop and it was starting to get on top of her so she decided the best way to remedy that was to divide her living room in half using what looked like a wall from a Dojo and fill it with sand, crystals, pillows and candles and sit in it listening to a buskers mixtape of panpipe covers as advised by the book.
Clearly, Susan found it difficult to think for herself and would often seek out trends that confirmed her rather vague understanding that “there must be something but I don’t know what”. The chill out room was just another fad in a whole embarrassing line of fads that she’d entertained over the years.
She opened up a box that had been delivered in the post this morning. it was fairly heavy as it contained an assortment of crystals and stones as well as a set of Tibetan chimes; a small set of bells that had set her back by over £75. She picked up a Quartz stone and placed it on what she believed to be her “crown chakra”, she had no idea what she was doing, in fact, in the instructions it clearly states that in order to purge your mind of stressful intrusions, an amethyst stone should be placed on the crown chakra, but given the half arsed approach Susan had to almost everything in her life, she’d already discarded the instructions and had jumped in with both feet expecting the spiritual power of a bunch of rocks to sort her fucking life out.
She retired to her beanbag, pleased with her newfound set of delusions, balancing an incense infused crystal on her head believing that she could feel the souls of ancient witch doctors passing through her, cleaning her mind.

At this point, Jeff wandered slowly into the living room and began chewing on some bubblewrap, he was satisfied by the smoothness of the plastic but also by the popping sensation of the air bubbles; a welcome treat given the chaos of the morning so far.
Susan was less impressed. She felt that she was beginning to enter a trance like state only to be disturbed by a popping cat, she picked up an enchanted cushion and threw it in Jeff’s direction. It hit him in the face, he stopped chewing, sat up and looked at Susan spread eagled on the beanbag.

“What a mess” thought Jeff as he climbed into a cardboard box and peered out of the handle hole. He intended to use the box as a base from which to do his days hunting but inevitably he fell asleep. As did Susan, with a stone still stuck to her forehead. The delivery men took a few pictures on their way out and uploaded them to Facebook under the heading “look at this hippie bitch!! #ladsbants”


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