jane
Well-Known Member
I wish we could just say 'No'.
Dear People Who Give Out The Stupid Free Papers,
It's not quite 7am. It's pissing rain. I'm wearing shorts, reflectors, a flashing light, and a gore-tex jacket and am running down the fucking road, already somewhat saturated with rain, and giving you a wide berth, so that you cannot touch me with your paper. Does it look like I want a paper? Does it look like I'm doing something that exudes Desire for Paper? Really? That's funny. So that's why you keep jumping in front of me to cut me off until I take your stupid paper? I know you're out there before dawn, and it looks like a truly shitty job, and I don't envy you, but really, what the fuck am I supposed to do with the stupid fucking paper? Are most runners that you see also reading the paper? I am trying to ignore you, but you keep trying to touch me with your paper, and I want you not to.
And once one of you sees me, your rival, "But our masthead is red and blue! We're different!" also creeps up, often from an oblique and unsettling angle, silent, dope-grinned and unshakeable. Then there are two of you, and I'm trying to say no, pointing to where my pockets would be if I had them, so that you can be quite sure I do not, emphasising my baglessness and the absence of my desire for a paper. I know what your manager said, how everyone wants a free paper, whether or not they know it, but your manager lied. I'm telling you the truth: I do not want a free paper. Stop looking at me like that, I don't want a free paper. Can you...what? No, I said, I don't want a fucking goddamn cunting free motherfucking paper.
I know it's early, but when you stop me, not once, but twice, and no matter what I do to avoid eye contact, or if I cross to the other side of the road, or I shake my head and say, "No", you won't fucking stop shoving that insipid bullshit rag in my face. I do not want a fucking paper. I do not want a paper. I do not want a paper. I do not want a paper. I do not want a paper.
I don't like having to tell you, "I SAID, NO! DO I LOOK LIKE I WANT A PAPER?" because you have ignored my soft 'no', and you have denied seeing me shake my head 'no', and when I avoid eye contact, you arrange yourself and your papers in front of wherever my face is pointing. You have left me with no choice. I don't hate you quite as much as chuggers, but don't push your luck. Please be thinking.
Thanks,
Me
Dear People Who Give Out The Stupid Free Papers,
It's not quite 7am. It's pissing rain. I'm wearing shorts, reflectors, a flashing light, and a gore-tex jacket and am running down the fucking road, already somewhat saturated with rain, and giving you a wide berth, so that you cannot touch me with your paper. Does it look like I want a paper? Does it look like I'm doing something that exudes Desire for Paper? Really? That's funny. So that's why you keep jumping in front of me to cut me off until I take your stupid paper? I know you're out there before dawn, and it looks like a truly shitty job, and I don't envy you, but really, what the fuck am I supposed to do with the stupid fucking paper? Are most runners that you see also reading the paper? I am trying to ignore you, but you keep trying to touch me with your paper, and I want you not to.
And once one of you sees me, your rival, "But our masthead is red and blue! We're different!" also creeps up, often from an oblique and unsettling angle, silent, dope-grinned and unshakeable. Then there are two of you, and I'm trying to say no, pointing to where my pockets would be if I had them, so that you can be quite sure I do not, emphasising my baglessness and the absence of my desire for a paper. I know what your manager said, how everyone wants a free paper, whether or not they know it, but your manager lied. I'm telling you the truth: I do not want a free paper. Stop looking at me like that, I don't want a free paper. Can you...what? No, I said, I don't want a fucking goddamn cunting free motherfucking paper.
I know it's early, but when you stop me, not once, but twice, and no matter what I do to avoid eye contact, or if I cross to the other side of the road, or I shake my head and say, "No", you won't fucking stop shoving that insipid bullshit rag in my face. I do not want a fucking paper. I do not want a paper. I do not want a paper. I do not want a paper. I do not want a paper.
I don't like having to tell you, "I SAID, NO! DO I LOOK LIKE I WANT A PAPER?" because you have ignored my soft 'no', and you have denied seeing me shake my head 'no', and when I avoid eye contact, you arrange yourself and your papers in front of wherever my face is pointing. You have left me with no choice. I don't hate you quite as much as chuggers, but don't push your luck. Please be thinking.
Thanks,
Me