A short story for the CAKE.shortandSweet Wednesday Write In
The Bargain Bin
‘Excuse me, madam -’
Excuse me, excuse me. What does he want? Looking like a hard man with that shaved head. He thinks he’s helpful in navy polyester, a knight in branded armour. His voice is a buzz of excuse me, ex-cues-mee.
And I don’t know what she’s got to look at. Fucking tart. I mean, look at her. I don’t know how she can stand herself. I mean, god, she’s not just fat, she’s morbidly obese. Must be. Sweaty Freckles, that’s what I’ll call her this week. A dripping Barbie in a spaghetti string top that is surely two sizes too small for her. Obviously old Freckles didn’t get the memo that brassy hair clashes with harlot scarlet. A semicircle of sweat blooms under her armpits. Her bingo wings are like cookie dough; they wobble when she reaches for the top shelf.
Oh god, what’s that skinhead heavy looking at now? Prick. icks-cooos-mi Whatever.
I know where I’m going, same place every week – the Bargain Bin. Why call it a bin, I don’t know. We pay for the crap that’s in it. Sometimes.
Why is everything so expensive now. Even here. A pound doesn’t get what it used to, or maybe they’ve made shopping trolleys bigger to persuade you to buy more. Everything’s a pound, then you end up spending more than you intended and on crap you didn’t want. There are only so many bags of Haribo I can eat in the morning.
Not that mornings are much fun. It’s a slippery slope from Kyle to Loose Women, and everyone’s obsessed by sex. Even the ones who don’t deserve benefits are getting sex; their skinny, junky bodies rubbing together like dry sticks. Makes me sick. That’s my tax they’re getting.
Sex and tax: there’s not much left to talk about these days. Except money. There’s not much in the Bargain Bin this week, only a bashed tin without a label. Load of rubbish. Oh well, into the bag it goes.
‘Excuse me, madam – ‘
Oh piss off will you.
(Word count: 343)
Wow, aggressive! What a character. I found myself a little confused by the stream of characters in the first paragraphs, I got mixed up when she’s looking at the skinhead but still listening to navy poly guy. It feels very explosive, I thought there was going to be violence. You could move the why is every so expensive paragraph to the top to introduce the Haribo note of humour before the vitriol begins, and cushion the introduction of navy, freckles, and skinhead. I’m responding to this piece a lot! It’s great
Hey Becca, thanks for the feedback. I’ve tweaked the second paragraph to make the security guard character a bit clearer.(the skinhead heavy is the same person as the man in branded polyester). Completely take your point about confusion, so I hope that makes more sense? xx
I think the trail of their thoughts are great, I enjoyed the descriptions
Is the narrator a check out person?
I didn’t realize the skinhead guy was a security guard. But I can see it now, with the navy polyester, and the branded armour comment.
I love the exasperation over the ‘excuse me’, but I’m not sure who he’s saying it to.
So much anger, everyone else has a problem but her. I love the old Freckles didn’t get the memo bit!
I was really confused by the pov switching at first – even just sticking one of these in italics or something would make it more obvious we’re hearing from two different people. I also didn’t get that the guy was a security guard but I understood that he was supposed to be working there from the ‘branded’ comment – loved that description by the way.
The ending confused me a bit, I wasn’t sure what the point was of this other character, what he was trying to achieve. I think without this other layer it just becomes a rant, rather than a narrative, and I’d like a line or two just to hint at what’s going on. Otherwise this is great.