nemonymous


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Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow
nemonymous
by the Clacton Writer's Group Yesterday


Of all possible futures, he chose the second tomorrow to die. It was a pity, because the first tomorrow held a much more interesting way to expire. On the third day, he was still alive and he was puzzled how he had survived both deaths on the previous two days. Shit, he said, waking up. I don’t want to live to die again. It’s only a dream perhaps. But no, it had to be faced, he had to die, there was no escaping. All that remained to do was to decide when, where and how. Perhaps another little sleep, he thought, snuggling back beneath the duvet.

 *

 Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, for all eternity, until the sun dies in the sky and the sea engulfs the land. Only then, and this is just a remote possibility, only then will MPs stop fiddling their expenses. Then you will find they will be fiddling with something else, equally annoying. Nero fiddled while Rome burned, but who fiddled when the sun burned out and the earth turned to ice? “I will,” said the frozen earth. Perhaps Ray Mears will know what to do. I’m desperate for a cup of tea.

 *

 I cannot have scrambled eggs for breakfast three days in a row! That’ll stop the diarrhoea, It had better be All Bran then, with just a splash of milk and no sugar. Toast and tea would be a better idea. “A better idea still would be simply let the imagination take you on a rollercoaster – or perhaps a roller-toaster!” the kipper on the engine said.

 *

 “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” the radio announced, in the corner of the old pub. The news was often about ‘today’, so the regulars stared into their beer and wondered what disaster awaited the world after today. “Tomorrow – tomorrow – tomorrow – isn’t that next week?” the landlord asked. “Don’t worry – next week will soon be last week!” Everyone in the pub shrugged and turned their attention back to their beer. Now, that would be a sight for sore eyes, possibly even Olympic standard of synchronised shrugging.

 *

 Tomorrow, I determined that she will appreciate me more than she does already (which is not very much!) But then yesterday she didn’t know me; so that’s progress. Perhaps tomorrow I will not know her, with a bit of luck. No, I didn’t mean that – well, not much. I just want to be appreciated for what I do, who I am. There again, because I do know her, that helps me become what I am now and, without her, I would be someone else, possibly even someone that she would like. On the other hand, knowing her, she will not like me tomorrow, however determined I am determined to be that she will like me.

 *

 Once upon a time, the day changed once and then once again. The night was very confusing as well and didn’t get dark. Tomorrow will be better, he thought on the third day. I’ll wake up in my own bed and it will be the weekend. His end, as it turned out, was not weak at all but quite strong, in very rude health, as they say. The rude health, as it turned out, was his downfall. His end, as it further turned out, was even better than expected because he dreamt how Shakespeare would finish it with a “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow this too too solid flesh to be or not to be perchance to dream" before once upon a time started his life all over again.

 

 

 

 


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