I've been writing...

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Paul was a bloke who didn’t like a challenge very much. He would stay at home, watch DVD’s and occasionally play with his dog. That didn’t happen too often as Jumbo was getting on Paul’s nerves. This morning he hadn’t even fully woken up when he switched his computer on. He opened THE website and was just staring at the screen for a few minutes. The web page didn’t differ to what he’d seen yesterday, the day before or last week. But he kept staring. Jumbo thought it was some kind of celebration, saying ‘Good Morning’ to a new day. He jumped onto Paul’s lap but this time access was refused. There was nothing else to do and Jumbo went to play with his bones. Paul lazily started putting his clothes on. He hated dressing up, he hated his job, he hated mornings and he hated his dog too. He tried to smile once but it didn’t work for him. Not in the morning and not without a reason. What was a good reason to make Paul smile then? Well, not much. Jumbo knew that there was something, something very mysterious that made Paul happy. If there was a lucky day, he would smile while fooling around with Jumbo but on most occasions - no matter how hard Jumbo tried, he was still unnoticed. There was a hope. Jumbo knew that his master did get happy and he knew that it must have been something to do with the screen. There were millions of times when the dog just wanted to bite the cables and rescue Paul from this miserable God who seldom talked to him through this stupid piece of glass. But then Paul would get angry and probably Jumbo would be kicked out. He was scared of being kicked out more then he was scared of Paul being sad.
- You should start a new hobby - said Jumbo suddenly.
- Oh, give me a break. I’m trying to create a really cool ad for my heart, I’m selling it for 99p plus two quid for postage, what do you reckon? Do you think it will sell?
Jumbo didn't answer. He knew it was going to be another day spent alone, with his bones. At least Paul remembered to feed him. If he sells his heart he might not be able to do even that anymore. Jumbo wept. His owner didn’t take much notice of that as he was already late for work. After Paul was gone, Jumbo grabbed a phone and dialled a number known only to him.
- Hi, yes... It’s Jumbo Smith here. I called you about two weeks ago and you managed to send me the bill already but nothing has been done... But... Oh... I really don’t care that its Christmas and you’re busy! Was there any problem with my credit card? No, I’m not happy with cat fucking services. Do I sound like a bloody cat?! Can I have my money back then? Yes, same address. Thank you for nothing. Good day. Good day I say! Oh, and put me through to the complaints...
Jumbo was not pleased. He made a complaint but it didn’t make him feel any better. He decided to have a drink and opened the mini bar with his paw (managing to break a bottle of Johnny Walker at the same time). “No wine... He doesn’t even know what to drink.” Finally, he decided on vodka. You need to know that Jumbo is quite an ordinary, nice little dog. He doesn’t drink alcohol unless he has to. And today he had to. He was lonely. There were no other dogs living around (there was one, but she was stupid and he just wanted to stay away, stay away). Paul didn’t care anymore and he had his big screen and all this stuff he was selling. His heart was not the first item. Before, he tried to give away his feelings, his points of view, his personality and he was successful most times. He had difficulty with selling Jumbo, as Jumbo had this little defect, unseen by a naked eye but when you looked closer... So that’s the reason Jumbo was still here. And the defect part of the story didn’t help. It all just made Jumbo very, very depressed. “Never mind, Paul doesn’t care, Paul’s God from the mysterious website doesn’t care and these people I just called - they don’t care either.” Slightly tipsy, he put the music on. And danced. It was beautiful music. “It’s a shame I’m not as talented as people, I would make the most beautiful music myself. And maybe then, maybe then I would have friends!” But he wasn’t, he couldn’t and he didn’t. “Well, maybe one more bottle and I’ll just sleep.”
When he woke up, Paul wasn’t back yet. “Good, I have some time to clean this mess up.” Then the doorbell rang. Jumbo was hesitating to open the door - he didn’t look very well and he smelled of vodka. He was not that bothered though so he answered. A beautiful girl was standing outside.
- Paul is not in, should I take a message?
- Paul?
- Yhm, Paul’s at work. Or somewhere else, selling other parts of his body. Dunno.
- Good.
- Oh…
- You see, I’m not sure if I’ve got the right address - Jumbo Smith, 555 Blue Street, Weepinshire?
- Oh, yes, yes, I do apologise, I've been having some hard time recently and... – Jumbo hesitated.
- Yes?
- Well, actually, what is this about?
- Oh, you should know that. I’m Death. You called our customer services three times and the complaints department twice so we decided to treat your case as an emergency, - the girl replied with a smile on her face.
- Oh.
- So, would you like to suffer?
- No, it’s ok, thank you. Come in, please. - Jumbo was calm now. Now it’s gonna be ok. Now, he’s not gonna be in Paul’s way, he’s not gonna hate God from the screen, and nobody will call him Jimbo anymore...
- For additional £1.99 we could leave a message for you friends.
- Oh, really? Well, can you just tell Paul that I’m sorry for everything, about being not good or interesting enough, about moving in to this shithole, about drinking his stuff and about not being able to get sold on this mysterious website? And... And that’s about it, I’d say. At least for now.
- Well, there’s not gonna be any Later, are you sure?
- Yes, thank you.
- Ok then. It was surely nice to meet you.
- Oh...
When Paul came back, he found Jumbo dead on the couch. He smiled. Nobody wanted to buy this bloody dog alive, so hopefully somebody will want it dead...