Commercial Suicide Before The Internet
by Daniel Guy At the back of a city pub, Toby was sitting with his Mate Sam, offering advice. When he finished he lit a cigarette and sipped his beer. Sam sat opposite, his hands a cradle for his face, too miserable to be ashamed of tears. Toby leaned forward and touched Sam’s elbow. 'Sorry mate. I didn't mean to make things worse.' The awkward silences shared by these two ordinary looking middle aged men was accompanied by a pitchless background a-cappella rendition of HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SONIA, sung by a party of young female receptionists, sitting around a table at the other end of the bar. Toby looked over Sam's shoulder to catch birthday girl Sonia unwrapping from metallic green wrapping paper, a large pink latex vibrator. He thought for a moment to draw Sam's attention but glancing back at him, he decided that Sam might not be in the mood. Sam adjusted his melancholic slouch from one elbow to the next and looked down at the mosaic he'd cre