Mort the Shit Manager: 'Flat Arse'

in Writing Club3 months ago (edited)


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Source: Image by @katharsisdrill

Mort, the Shit Manager is a spin-off fictional series of short stories based loosely on the thoughts of David Mortenson, the tyrannical Kwiksave store manager who features in my auto-biographical series 'The Horrors of Kwiksave'.

Other Articles in this Series:
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oppression Supreme'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Armchair Club'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Bloody Nose'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Fresh Cream'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oxidation'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Day Off'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Heat Machine'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Mandy's Curves'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Bribe'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Agnus'

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...'March 1974'...

...'WARNING - ADULT CONTENT'...

‘Ring Ring…., Ring Ring’

“Helloooo, this is Kwiksave Rawtenstall and I am Reginald Bulge the Manager; what does ye want?’

Edith Smokebottom-Ward inhaled deeply. Why did she, the manager of Rawtenstall Job Centre have to deal with this obnoxious, obese, bombastic cunt of humanity?

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“Reg, there’s a young lad here who’s interested in the Stock Lad job”, she croaked wheezily before showering a spluttering, coughing fit over the unfortunate wide-eyed David Mortenson who hastily backed off.

“Oooohhh is there now lass", said Bulge, glee radiating through the telephone receiver.

“Now ye knows what do so, I don’t interview all of these lads ye know, so tell me what I needs ta know before yous sends him across to the store”, continued Bulge who was now panting heavily.

Edith knew this scenario only too well. If she didn't cooperate, Bulge would cut off her supply of Woodbines. In the last month, she had done well, cutting her intake down to 165 a day from 170. She ought to be congratulated.


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“Reg, the last lot of fags were those cheap-arse Embassy No.10, I want Woodbines, not that fucking shit!”, she gasped, out of breath after completing such a long exhausting sentence.

Smoking was affecting Edith. At 61, she ought to have been retired but needed to keep working to pay for her habit.

“Lass.., I gets what I can. The LiquourSave shop was outta ye’s Woodbines last week, so I had to nick what I could. I is taking big risks for you lass ye know?”


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...'LiquorSave, a potential never-ending source of fags for enterprising Kwiksave Managers'...
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Edith could see Bulge prancing from foot to foot in anticipation. Why did she feed this walking mound of fat verbal descriptive images before sending these poor lads over to Kwiksave to be mentally destroyed?

She sighed in resignation. “Turn around”, she ordered Mort curtly.

“What.., eh”, replied Mort uneasily.

“I need to inspect your arse”, Edith followed up. “All Stock Lads have to be vetted before arriving at the store and you are no exception” she croaked exhaling a large balloon of used smoke into Morts terrified face.

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Edith roughly grabbed Mort with both hands, eyed up his groin, and then shuffled him around taking weight of his chunky arse before he had a chance to react.

"Front looks non-existent, back a little flabby", Edith choked down into the receiver, ash from her cigarette flying in multiple directions.

“Flabby eh lass, I like ‘em with flat arses ye knows that, ye's gonna have to send some good un's across if ye wants yer Woodbines"

Now petrified, Mort could hear every tinny word emanating from the receiver and was preparing to bolt, but Edith had other ideas and firmly held his arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Bah… send ye flabby boyo across”, sighed Bulge and hung up in disgust.


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Mort, the Shit Manager is a Serial Shitposting Fiction Story inspired by Torundel the Shitposter by @katharsisdrill, Ren du Lot, the Shit Lawyer by @vcelier and Nordlute, the Shit Sysadmin by @steevc.

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Haha, what a return. Edith is a bit of a fag stinking mouthful.

She's a force to be reckoned with and will do anything for those 165 Woodbines a day hehe...

My Family used to shop in QuickSave until ASDA opened in Rawtenstall.

This was a step up in food quality but meant the location of the yearly fairground was now occupied by a massive ASDA store.

No more pet goldfish in a bag for me!

Oh! What bittersweet irony.

That shithole on Bacup Road? I endured years of sheer torture there before Micro P came into the picture. It has scarred my brain and my outlet for it all is HERE!

Now let me be totally honest I know fags with many names and brands, Woodbines I had to research! You going back to the dark ages when dragging a fag was fashionable, old Ms Kwiksave much like me never kicked the habit.....

Risk vs Reward bad health, yellow stains everywhere but sanity prevails. She ain't flabby like Bulge, require four hand to grab a fat arse... please never turn around fast front bulge could take you out!

!BEER

They were the strongest, most cancer-inducing fags ever made hehe.., our definition of 'fags' is different here :)

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I thought he was the manager. I must have missed and episode or two. Maybe over a weekend or something.

This is prior to his manager time, and when he was a grunt. Bulge was his manager for sometime. I have yet to decided Bulge's fate, maybe he could explode after eating one burger too many?

Ah, okay, I gotcha.

😂 happy days,

Lol. I somehow miss Kwiksave, it was cheap and very low quality.

It was low quality of life working there too, trust me!

Lol. I can imagine

I love the descriptions you use, they really help to paint a grimmy picture.

!PIZZA

It's getting tougher to create these. My fiction brain doesn't work as well as genuine memories.

Ooh goody, bedtime reading...I've got some catching up to do. I liked this one but felt horribly sorry for the poor lad. Could easily be non-fiction lol.

Mort was an evil character, and my boss for some time when I worked there. This is not a true portrayal but my auto-bio (still unfinished), is!

I would like to read it when it's done. Mort sounds awful from what you've portrayed here...I read the whole lot last night and holy moly what a piece of work. I'm sure there are snippets of truth in there too.

Good old shopshite !
!PIZZA

Uff what a barbaric description of the flat buttocks and flying ashes everywhere, reading this story sounds to me like, so many experienced in my workplace with smokers around me.

I remember a boss who used to talk to me with a lit cigarette in his mouth and the ashes would not fall out, I don't know how he did it, but I would lose my concentration just looking at the blessed cigarette ... jajaj

I remember a boss who used to talk to me with a lit cigarette in his mouth and the ashes would not fall out, I don't know how he did it, but I would lose my concentration just looking at the blessed cigarette

It's no longer like this in the UK. Things changed in the late 80's and smoking was outlawed indoors in 2007.

I remember when I was young when I used to go to the disco in John Travolta's time, for God's sake I had to go out to be able to breathe because of the number of people smoking, it was crazy. Fortunately, things have changed.

I'm sure this is based on your own experiences. I remember when people still smoked at work. I used to work in an office in an industrial unit with two pipe smokers. It stank. Let the buggers stand out in the rain for their fix!

Good to have Mort back again.

I remember when people still smoked at work.

As a non-smoker since schooldays it never went down very well with me. My early office experiences circa 1987 had people smoking indoors and gassing everyone.

Pubs were the worst. You'd come home stinking. It's such an antisocial habit, but kids still take it up. Vaping is almost as annoying.

Nightclubs in the 80's, you literally had to waft your way through the smoke in some of 'em!

🍕 PIZZA !

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Cool story line, it almost seemed like you wrote before this maybe i missed I'll try to be more punctual this time. miss Kwiksave kinda knew it was cheap.


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