Steamtalk 2

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Steamtalk 2

So, I betcha wondering how such a crazy fucking idea as the Culls came into existence, aintcha?

Well, believe it or not it all stemmed from a throwaway comment made by one of the mayor’s aides during one of those you-scratch-my-back-I-scratch-yours-then-we-both-take-a-shit-all-over-the-working-man meetings they had to brainstorm ideas on how to solve their problems – chiefly the one of having too many mouths to feed.

‘It wouldn’t be so bad if we could just shoot some of the fuckers every now and then,’ the brown-nosing son of a whore had laughed, before leafing through his legal pad to find the next item on their agenda.

The seed of an idea was planted in that mayor of ours’ begging-for-a-bullet noggin and from there the fat cocksucker fought tooth and nail to get the new policy cleared.

‘It’s the only way,’ he’d say, smiling that smile of his that lifted his chins but didn’t quite reach his piggy little eyes. ‘It’s only one family per month. But it will ease the burden for everyone else.’

The only thing that surprises me about the whole ever-loving shituation is how long it took him to take his idea from boardroom bullshittery to brutal reality.

And things began to get better – not that you’d tell out here of course, where every poor fucker bar the Grims is starving despite a working week that breaks the seventy hour barrier.

The mayor, of course, was soon upping his quota until the culls started coming every week.

That shit could go down in any one of the twelve districts.

They’ve hit the same one three weeks running now, so it just goes to show you never know when they’ll come a-kicking on your door.

In some ways it’s safer out here on the streets.

At least out here you know you’re always in danger so you have your ever-loving wits about ya by default.

At home you’re unsuspecting, guard down, chilling in your kipsack and BOOM! In comes your door and out bleeds your bloodline.

That’s one of the reasons I chose to get out of the working man’s lifestyle.

I mean how pissed would you be?

Slaving away for three quarters of your life, asleep for most of the rest of it, then one day you’re rudely woken up by some government-hired asshole shoving a shotgun in your piehole.

I wanted some sort of a life before the reaper found his way to me.

And you know what?

If you stay sharp, keep yourself in the right company, it ain’t all that bad out here.

But it’s cold most of the time and there are a few places – and people – it’s best to avoid.

One piece of advice; never let your guard down.




You put me in a fucking nunnery and I’ll still be glancing round like a meerkat on amphetamines.

Cos you just never know.

These times have forced people to become slyer.

Desperation will do funny things to a person, mark my ever-loving words.

In this world, if someone’s being nice to ya, nine times outta ten it’s cos they’re wanting something out of you.

Don’t be fooled.

Don’t let it eat you up – life’s still worth living in most places – but don’t walk round with your head up your ass.

Cos that’s one fine way to land yourself headfirst in shit.


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