A Brief History of Bollocks

=/Martyn\=

Martyn lay on his floor, casting his gaze towards the magenta ceiling of his home.
-pointless, the lot of it.- He thought. Each person a cog in the figurative machine of reality. None of those pawns could see the true potential of life, the myriad of choices which are lain before them every day. At any moment, he may take a disliking to a certain person, thing or style of living, and verbally destroy it with his anger. The only thing restraining him from this were fictional 'rules of life', or 'manners'. The universe doesn't care if you have good manners. It remains indifferent to you. (Assuming the universe can simulate indifference, as the true term would be absolute neutrality).
Bible thumpers be damned, preaching their 'omnipotence' and 'absolute truth' of god. Because of the actual nature of the universe, 'omnipotence' is impossible, a buzzword, if you will. True omnipotence is not possible, and if it was, our human minds would never be able to comprehend the vision that would accompany it. To have absolute control over everything, the orbit of a planet, a plaything within your hand. Putty. In that state of absolute control, the tiny life of an organism would be pointless, futile. The impossibility of being able to amount to anything compared to the absolute power that would be a god, would be nigh impossible.
Needless to say, Martyn was not much of a theist.
And I’m sure, after an eternity as an omnipotent being, you would potentially go insane. To have no others to match your incredible intellect, an entire universe (Potentially an infinite amount of others as well) to play with, form with your ever expanding mind. The lives of lesser beings rushing past in an instant to you, assuming time even passes in your state of preeminence.
Puffing from his cigarette, feeling the hot smoke run down his throat and cool in his lungs, exhaling and seeing it slowly disappear into the air, a key turns in the door and the lock clicks. Martyn already knows who it is.
‘Oh, having another of your utterly pointless existential crises’ then?’
Martyn rotates his head, catching sight of Steven.
‘Maybe I’m not, why assume that I am?’
‘Because whenever you feel the need to have an existential crisis, you lie on that floor, cigarette in hand. I think you may have created an indent by now.’
‘Hilarious.’
‘Cheeky, yes. Hilarious, perhaps not. Now get up, we’re going to get hammered.’

=/Steve\=

‘What If I don’t want to go out and drown my timeless questions in alcohol?’
‘Your questions aren’t timeless. Every idiot on the planet has had them at some point. Stop being so pretentious.’
Steven watched Martyn sigh, and slowly get to his feet.
‘Let me get my coat.’ Martyn disappeared down the hallway.
Pathetic, really. Seeing a grown man reduced to pointless philosophy when confronted with the simplest questions about the nature of the universe. Unable to do anything but consider the pointlessness of life, while lying on the floor and feeling sorry for himself. Their friendship was almost based on contempt, but the main reason was the two being roommates. Without each other, they could not afford the price of living. Martyn appeared at the entrance to the hallway once again, coat in hand.
‘You realise that leather coat doesn’t make you look any more suave than you actually are, right?’
‘You’re just jealous.’
‘Oh, yes. What exactly should I be jealous of again?’
‘My beautiful, flowing locks of hair? The way I put a spell on members of the opposite gender, while you haven’t spoken to one in over 8 months.’
‘That’s your hair? I was under the impression that was simply a skinned rat.’
As Steven pushes the call elevator button, he receives a tentative grin from Martyn. A few weeks ago, a friendship of this sort would have been nigh impossible. But with the occasional witticism from Steven, their companionship was back on track.
Stepping out onto the crowded city street of New York city, a certain familiar smell hits the nostrils of the two men. An industrial smell, mixed in with the stench of millions of people going about their daily lives. Mix and serve, 8 million servings. Both look up and down Madison avenue, sizing up their surroundings. The usual bullshit with the Upper East Side of Manhatten. Snooty white people going about their daily business of feeling superior to everyone else. God knows how Martyn found an affordable apartment in this part of town.
They continued walking down Madison, passing high end stores, each containing their own selection of women the wrong end of 50.
Continuing down Madison avenue in silence until they hit 84th street, they turn left and cross the wide avenue. Walking along this rather pleasant street, lined with trees, they both feel a sort of peace.
‘Nice, isn’t it?’
‘Damn straight.’
‘What was the name of the bar we were going to, again?’
‘The Trinity pub. Friend told me about it the other night.’
Continuing on in the mild Autumn air, they pass a church on the right. The quiet of this street is broken as they near Park avenue. They wait at the crosswalk, being mobbed by a group of businessman talking on their cell phones.
‘Ok, ok, then can we get the Leebridge deal for 300K?’
‘What the hell do you mean you forgot to file-’
‘I still think the campaign is salvageable, just give me a little bit more time!’
Steven sends a look down the line to Martyn, who understands the sentiment immediately. Both stare straight ahead, feeling a mutual sense of disdain towards the businessmen.
The walk sign turns green, and like the shot of a gun, the businessmen are near running across the avenue. Within a few moments they are all out of earshot. A brief thought of himself as a small piece within a huge plan, having absolutely no control over his life sends shudders down Steven’s spine. They continue on, still silent.

=/Emily\=

Emily was leaning over the bar, trying to ignore a look shot across the room from a clearly intoxicated man in a booth. She picked up a cloth, and began pretending to wipe down the bar for the 50th time that night. Clearly, the rather intoxicated man did not understand her disinterest. He sauntered over to the bar, treading on the toes of quite a few other customers in the process. While the other customers were preoccupied watching this stumbling man, Martyn and Steven slipped in the front door.
‘Hey, girl. How are ya doing?’
‘I’m completely fine. However, you seem to be a little on the tipsy side.’
‘Nah, I’m completely fine...’ His words slurred.
‘I’m sure. Now what can I get you?’ Emily asked, feigning ignorance.
‘Actually, I was hopin’ I could get a pint of you, if ya know what I mean.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not interested.’
‘Aw, come on baby, just give me a chance...’ He leaned in for the kiss.
Emily made a split second decision, and slapped him round the face. He reeled back in shock, and fell on to the lap of another woman, who let out a shriek.
‘Ok, here is what is going to happen. You’re clearly drunk, and disturbing the other customers at this bar. By the look of you, you’re almost 20 years older than me, and seem to be developing stubble. I am in no way interested in us, and I doubt I ever will be. I’m going to hail you a taxi, and you’re going to get into it. Of course, the moment you walk out that door you will be instantly banned from this bar. Is that understood?’
‘Fine, whatever. Crazy bitch.’
‘Get out. I’m not even going to call a taxi for your drunk arse.’ She pointed to the door. He stared at Emily, seemingly trying to append a sense of fear into her. She returned his gaze, while still pointing at the door. By this point the rest of the pub had fallen into silence, intrigued by their exchange. Slowly he broke her gaze, and meandered to the door. He turned around briefly.
‘This place sucked arse anyway.’ He then finally stumbled through the threshold, out onto the street. Emily breathed a sigh of relief, and returned to her bar tending duties.
‘That was quite the exchange.’ Emily looked up, to see an attractive dark haired man sitting at the bar.
‘We get those types occasionally.’ She replied. ‘What can I get for you?’
‘A Guinness for me, and a pint of your cheapest lager for my friend over there.’ Emily looked over Martyn’s shoulder, to see Steven giving a shy wave.
‘Guinness and a pint of rat piss coming right up.’

=/Steven=\

Steven looked around the bar, taking in his surroundings. The varnished, wood panelled walls, complemented by a carpeted floor. A few red booths lining the outside of the pub, while the centre was dominated by tables and plush chairs. On the far left side was the bar, stretching from the front of the pub to a secured door at the other end. But to Steven, none of that was as interesting as the face of the woman who was serving the drinks. She was stunning. Steve stole another glance, getting a better idea of her face. She was leant over the bar, handing drinks to Martyn, her auburn hair pulled back into a loose, functional pony tail. A few stray hairs fell down from her pony tail, bending round the curve of her face. With full, cherry cheeks and high cheekbones, her grey-green eyes seemed to imprint themselves into Steven’s mind. Martyn began to head back to their table, and she noticed Steven staring at her. She held his gaze for a moment, before Steven broke it out of sheer embarrassment.
‘I see you’ve got a crush.’ Steven looked up to see Martyn holding out his drink to him.
‘Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Not sure yet.’
‘I wouldn’t count on anything happening too soon. Did you see the way she dealt with the last guy who hit on her?’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’ But Steven still harboured hopes within him.

=/Emily=\

Emily leant over the bar, observing the area around her. In the farthest to the left booth, a group of friends, telling jokes and carrying on. To their right, a father and son, who seem to be debating something thoroughly. Then dominating the central table, the dark haired man and the blond one, who had been glancing at her all night. She examined his face. He had quite a prominent nose, which curved upwards slightly at the end. His eyes were light blue, and his hair wind blown and ash blond. Emily thought he was actually pretty cute. He caught her gaze, and then quickly averted his eyes once again. It was relatively obvious he was a shy one, which just made him more irresistible to Emily. The amount of assholes she had dated, each treating her worse than the last. She thought back to her last relationship, with a man known as Mark ‘The Tank’. And yes, he was truly a tank. 6”9, with muscles which would make Hercules blush. To see such a slim, sensitive and shy guy who was clearly interested in her was refreshing, to say the least.
‘Um, hello?’ Emily jolted back to reality, to see the blond standing in front of her.
‘Oh, sorry. I tend to daydream occasionally. What can I get you?’ She said, flashing a smile.
‘Just... can I get a refill please?’ He said, extending his empty glass and feeling a blush grow in his cheeks.
‘Sure thing, sweetie.’
Steven looked anxious, and turned his gaze back to Martyn for reassurance. He stared straight back, nodding.
‘So, uh... I was wondering if you were doing anything after your shift?’ Emily looked at him, while handing him back his drink. She considered it in her mind, turning over the potential options in her head. She settled on an answer.
‘Well, I guess you’re kind of cute. I finish at 10, is that after your bedtime?’
‘Oh, um... no! I mean, I don’t have a bedtime. I mean, I’ll pick you up outside the pub then.’ He walked towards the door at speed.
‘Hey!’ Steven whirled around.
‘You forgot your drink.’
‘Oh, um. Keep it!’ He hurried through the door, out onto the street.
Martyn walked up to the bar, and placed a ten dollar note on the bar.
‘That should about cover our drinks, keep the change. Excuse my friend’s social ineptitude, he hasn’t spoken to a woman in quite a while.’
‘It’s no problem.’ At that, Martyn walked out of the bar as well.