CHRISTMAS TREE DELIVERY by ruaridh

This year, I’d decided, no more of the fake trees. I wanted the smell of pine in my front room. I phoned up the local forestry shop to find that, not only did they have 6 foot trees, they could deliver as well. Carefully failing to tell them I lived two flights up, I booked for Saturday morning.

As luck would have it, I’d had a full on drinking night on the Friday, so when Saturday morning came I felt rough as fuck. My tongue was stuck to the top of my mouth and I smelled like shit: stale booze and sweat clung to me. It must have been around 10 am and I didn’t so much hit the shower as stagger into it. Five minutes in, and I was staying to feel marginally human – gradually, I became aware of a ringing noise and switched off the shower to realize that the door bell to the flat entrance was ringing insistently. Fuck – the Christmas tree: it had seemed such a good idea when I ordered it! I gathered a towel round me and pressed the door entry, leaning out of the flat door to shout “sorry, didn’t hear you – I was in the shower”. I could hear the unmistakable “fuck, another top floor” from the delivery guy. I grinned, I was sure he and his delivery buddy could deal with two flights of stairs. While I waited for them to arrive I stuck the kettle on. I needed a morning caffeine hit and I was sure they did too.

STORY CONTINUES AFTER THE JUMP…