Chapter One - Dependency

  As he sat there on the wet Sunday afternoon watching the late summer sunlight

  slowly descending to cast a glare on the Tv screen, meaning that he would soon have to get up and close the curtains to continue watching.

  George was an addict, but he was not hooked on any of the popular narcotics of the day such as crack or speed, he didn't even know

  what half of them were. He wasn't even dependent on any of the more traditional vices, like alcohol, tranquillisers or

  tobacco. What George was addicted to was far more soul destroying, far more life threatening, George was addicted to

  doing absolutely bugger all.

  George's life was one struggle to avoid doing anything, and the avoidance had to be done with the minimum of effort,

  which often meant that George would end up doing a lot more than he should have done, simply because it was too

  much hassle to get out of it. On the outside George had a number of good friends took part in many different activities

  and had a good job, but this wasn't because he was an outgoing gregarious bloke who got on well with everyone, no it

  was because half the time George really could be arsed to say no to anything or upset anyone.

  To sum up George’s life so far in one sentence, he was everyone’s third best friend.

  Anyway back to George’s problems, it was a Sunday afternoon and he was sitting watching Central Match Live, a classic

  of modern footballing times with his beloved Notts County away to Crewe, it was one of the few things he actually felt

  passionately about. He went to every home game without fail, but his fanaticism did not lead to away games, and

  typically every year he would toy with the idea of buying a season ticket, but after umming and aaahing for a while

  would not bother, because it would mean that he was tied to the same seat number for an entire season, and one of

  the great things about the footy was being able to view a huge cross-section of the population in the crowd. Every

  home game he could guarantee he would be near someone mildly interesting. His biggest fear about buying a season

  ticket would be that he would end up spending the season next to a completely normal quiet person. Recently he and

  Bobby, his footy mate had taken to sitting in the same section of the ground anyway, but that was only because there

  was a man who sat there who wore the most horrendous jet black wig. George had bet Bobby a tenner that it would lift

  up if the wind got too strong, it hadn't yet but George was confident now that winter was closing in the time was near,

  for the dead hamster to fly.

  The match ended with the score 1-2 to County, which would lift them to 5th from bottom and away from relegation

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  worries, until they next lost at least. It was almost 5.00pm and he felt that he had better cook something for dinner, he

  didn't feel hungry, but liked to eat his meals at regular times. Meals were still something he didn't really understand, it

  was only recently he had moved out away from his parents to a flat nearer the centre of town and he was still

  struggling with a lot of things related to domestic life. The two most difficult to grasps were cooking meals and cleaning

  the flat. It was easy when he lived with his mum, she knew that she couldn't tidy his room, she always provided a

  varied menu and meal time was always timed to the precise moment he felt hungry.

  But now he lived on his own, again this was a direct result of his apathy; there was absolutely no pressure from his

  parents to move out, they would have been content for him to stay with them until he was fifty. He felt obliged to move

  out simply because everyone he knew had moved into their own place ages ago. The longer he stayed with his parents

  the more different from the "norm" he would become, until he would eventually be known by all the pensioners in the

  village as George, "the nice man who looks after his parents, and does shopping for people who can't get out much

  anymore."

  There were other reasons for him to move out, it was easier for him to stay late at work, because he didn't have to be

  back for dinner, which was always at 6.00pm on the dot, also now he was in his flat he could go out at night more

  without feeling guilty about coming home pissed at 4 o'clock in the morning. His parents never seriously complained

  but there used to express concern at the state he got himself into. Now he was free to make a complete arse of himself

  whenever he felt like it, which much to George's annoyance was probably less often than when he lived with his mum

  and dad.

  George had found one of the main benefits of buying a flat was now he could join in with every one else when they

  started complaining about their lack of money. Before he had moved out he always had stacks of money building up in

  his bank account, and therefore had one less excuse than everyone for not going out when someone suggested a night

  out on the town. This meant that the promising night out with everyone from the office would normally end up being

  the three office alcoholics, the other two people who lived with their parents and him - crazy nights. Another reason for

  George moving out was that he liked the generic term "Bachelor" and now he had his own "Bachelor Pad". Bachelor

  Pad sounded loads better than "Sad bastard who still lived with his parents until recently, when he finally decided it was

  too much trouble to stay - pad"

  As he stood over the cooker watching the sausages under the grill slowly going black on the top, he wondered if

  anyone had ever mastered the art of knowing when to put the toast in so that both the sausages and toast would be

  ready at the same time, without either getting burnt.