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Free Willy

"Life! It's your choice"

A granola bar wrapper in blue packaging was thrust at the screen. It's backdrop - rugged mountain terrain and aromas of pine meet clear skies and fresh air.


The scene inside the living room was anything but what was being projected from the television.

William was sprawled across his sofa in a pair of well meaning suit trousers and a creased shirt. His interview had gone well, better than he thought in all honestly, he'd even bought himself a celebratory dbl rum n coke after it as a small well done and a pat on the back. However, he would soon hear that the job had gone to someone else all but 3 minutes after returning home and calling his mum to tell her the good news.

With rent due soon, he was forced to call back the kitchen he'd interviewed at the other day and accept their offer. Back to the soap suds and scrubs. A chocolate bar was needed to balance out the sadness fumbling, within so the cupboards were searched and turned inside out and rattled through, he was sure he had left himself some, he knew he had and there it was, the packet, but alas, nowt. His housemate has been at it and left a poorly written apology note.

"Soz Wallam, will buy when paid, next mth"

The thief didn't even have the courtesy to use proper spelling.

With no shops open and his house bare, Will resigned himself to a hungry night.

Still, at least there was the TV and the wonders of modern day streaming. Thousands upon thousands of films available to watch. Never in the history of humanity has an individual had the ability to access a library of such magnitude and do so without a modicum of effort. Yet, still, there was nothing to watch, nothing that interested him.

So it is not a night to sit in, William said to himself, it is a night to go out and to live and feel. So William called up his friends. Out of the five he called, 3 went to voicemail, 1 rang out and 1 pocket answered. None of them called back. So, William, it is a night to be independent to take yourself out into the night. So up he got, gumption in his step and out the door he nearly went, until his eye caught the clock...quarter to midnight...on a Tuesday...where would be open? Nowhere. Not unless he fancied a trip to the 24hour garage for stale atmosphere and expensive crisps.


Poor William resigned himself to the sofa with a slump and a sigh. The TV was flicked on but not watched. Instead, William picked out a spot on the ceiling, an area where the light from the screen made the artex dance.

"Life" the T.V shouted at him. "It's your choice!"


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