Author Archives: carltellstales

Uncool

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NO.86 LIVERPOOL, ISLINGTON, LONDON.

MICHELLE: Pete? Did you pack the cucumber?

PETE: Yep.

MICHELLE: Definitely?

PETE: Definitely. Why?

MICHELLE: Can’t find it in the bag.

PETE: That’s annoying.

MICHELLE: Do you think we left it at the till?

PETE: Probably.

MICHELLE: No worries. I’ll pick one up tomorrow. It’s not important.

SALAD SECTION OF SAINSBURY’S SUPER MARKET, LIVERPOOL ROAD, ISLINGTON, LONDON.

JENKINS: Mullins. Yo, Mullins! Mullins? Oh, Jesus…

MARTINS: What’s up, Jenkins?

JENKINS: MULLINS! Oh, man. I think they took Mullins.

MARTINS: No way…

JENKINS: I turned my back for one second. The animals!

MARTINS: Christ, we gotta tell Chief.

CHIEF: Gotta tell Chief what?

JENKINS: Chief! They’ve…they’ve taken Mullins!

CHIEF: They’ve taken Mullins? Are you sure?

JENKINS: He was next to me, I turned round, and now he’s gone.

CHIEF: God damn. Son of a bitch was two days from retirement.

MARTINS: What do we do, Chief?

CHIEF: Nothing we can do, boys. When it’s your time to be picked, it’s your time to be picked. And today was his time.

JENKINS: Surely we can do something!

CHIEF: Sorry, son. It was his time.

THE ALLEYWAY TWO MINUTES FROM NO.86 LIVERPOOL ROAD, ISLINGTON, LONDON.

MULLINS: I’m getting too old for this shit.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The pervert

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The pervert started perving on the sexy lady
From 50 perverted feet
As he pervily cycled towards her
on his great big pervy perv bike

He perved on her boobs.
He perved on her legs.
He perved on her lips.
He perved on her nose.
And as he went by
He perved on her side
from her sexy head to her sexy toes.

With her now behind his pervy back
He opened his perverted mouth and perved out a pervily, pervy piece of perv
But his pathetically perverted, pervy front wheel
Pervily clipped the curb
Sending him over his rock hard, pervaciously perverted
handlebars.

The pervert landed pervily on the ground
and died
With a smile upon his face
And a bollard right up his arse.

The perv.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The Evolution of Carl

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At 9.30am in Hackney today, I saw a man in his late 50s wearing just a pair of shorts, holding a large pack of chips in one hand and a half full 2 litre bottle of cider in the other. He was singing ‘It’s Not Unusual’ by Tom Jones, at a lamppost.

27-YEAR-OLD CARL

Keep your head down. He’s harmless. But it’s early. Just get to work and cross your fingers he gets to where ever he’s going, safely.

17-YEAR-OLD CARL

Nice life choices, loser! It’s pretty cool knowing I’ll never end up like that.

7-YEAR-OLD CARL

Wow! He’s unlike any big person I’ve ever seen! I wish he was my dad. I can’t wait to grow up and have all the fun I want!

© Carl Burkitt 2014

New boy

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“Dinner?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“You know, would you like me to take you to dinner?” he said.

“Why?” she said.

“Because…” he said.

“Because what?” she said.

“Because that’s what happens, isn’t it?” he said.

“Look,” she said. “If you want to sniff my arse, just sniff my arse.”

“Really?” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Right,” he said.

“OK,” she said.

It’d been barely two hours since he’d reincarnated as a dog, and to be honest, Roger was bloody loving it.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Germany vs Argentina (Final)

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Cornwall. 13th July 2014. 19.45pm – 15 minutes before kick off.

Hazel, 94, is sat on the sofa, waiting for the World Cup 2014 Final to start. She checks her watch, wondering where Barbara, 96, is.

HAZEL: Hmm. I really hope she doesn’t turn up late for this. She’s been a bloody nightmare all tournament.

Hazel looks at the stairs.

HAZEL: Barbara?

Hazel is met with silence.

HAZEL: Barbara! The Final is on very soon, hurry up.

Hazel is met with silence.

HAZEL: Barbara? Come on…

Hazel is met with silence.

HAZEL: BARBARA, HURRY THE CHRIST UP! YOU WILL NOT RUIN THIS BLOODY GAME FOR ME.

Hazel is met with silence.

HAZEL: SCREW YOU, BARBARA-

Barbara enters the room from the kitchen, her face beaming with pride at the £40.00, 300g, Argentinean Bife de lomo (beef tenderloin) that she had lovingly cooked to absolute perfection before placing it on the plate, now sitting in her hands, beside homemade sweet potato fries and salad leaves grown in Hazel’s allotment. 

Barbara places the dish in front of Hazel.

HAZEL: Wha-?

Barbara smiles at her best friend.

BARBARA: For the past 32 days, I have been nothing but a pest to you-

HAZEL: Yeah but-

BARBARA: No buts. I’ve pranked you. I’ve bullied you. I’ve hurt you. And today I want to make it up to you.

Hazel looks at the plate.

HAZEL: Yeah, but this is-

BARBARA: The exact meal that you slaved over before the Argentina vs Bosnia-Herzegovina game in week one.

HAZEL: I-

BARBARA: You accidentally dropped it and I was a bitch about it.

HAZEL: Yeah, but-

BARBARA: Hazel, please. I just want to tell you, I’m sorry.

HAZEL: Thank you.

Barbara looks at Hazel.

BARBARA: You’re my best friend.

Hazel smiles.

BARBARA: I love you.

HAZEL: Oh, Barbara.

Hazel stands to embrace her friend.

Barbara clutches her chest and falls to the ground, crashing through the coffee table.

HAZEL: Barbara?

Barbara’s limp body lies still, her eyes rolled back.

HAZEL: Barbara?!

Hazel gets down on her knees and cradles Barbara’s head.

HAZEL: Wake up, Barbara.

Hazel kisses Barbara’s head. 

HAZEL: Please, Barbara.

A tear trickles down Hazel’s face.

HAZEL: I love you, too.

Hazel gently rests Barbara’s head on the ground. She walks towards the hallway to call 999, as Barbara flicks her the Vs and quietly starts chewing on the steak.

© Carl Burkitt 2014