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'.
Mort the Shit Manager Complete Chronology
- Mort as a Stock Lad -
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Flat Arse' - (March 1974)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Mort's Interview' - (March 1974)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Armchair Club' - (May 1974)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Fresh Cream' - (November 1978)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Demise of Reginald Bulge' - (January 1979)
- Mort as a Manager -
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oxidation' - (July 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Fart Councilling' - (July 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Mandy's Interview' - (October 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Mandy's Curves' - (November 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Bribe' - (November 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Agnus' - (December 1979)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Bloody Nose' - (July 1980)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Brent's 'Druff' - (September 1980)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Sacking of Brent' - (September 1980)
- Mort as a Manager with @slobberchops -
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oppression Supreme' - (December 1980)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Heat Machine' - (March 1981)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Day Off' - (April 1981)
“Why did you hire that imbecilic stupid cunt?”
Mort stamped his feet about, paced up and down, and looked ready to explode much to the amusement of 'Carrot' the temporary assistant manager.
“Well you did tell me not to hire the burly types who keep busting your chops”, said Carrot trying in earnest to stifle a laugh.
“Did you.., have you… seen what he’s done now?”, spluttered a frantic Mort. "How am I going to explain this to Mr. Welsby, who coincidently happens to be visiting tomorrow, quite conveniently on your day off?”
“I could lose my job over this, lose my store, be demoted to a stock lad….”, he sobbed.
Source
...'while Carrot had a ridiculous haircut, he was one of the better Kwiksave Manager's, a very rare breed'...
Carrot looked unsympathetic. Mort had not done himself any favours by placing his feet up in the office all day, every day while he had done most of the work, which included the interviewing of Stock Lads who tended to leave Kwiksave at an alarming rate.
If Mort thought him a friend and ally, he was sadly mistaken. They had worked together off and on through the years but Mort’s growing narcissism and lack of empathy had strained and killed off anything that could have been nurtured.
Brent was a brainless moron; that was without question. Elton Welsby, the temperamental, explosive Area Manager had secretly questioned Carrot regarding the extraordinarily high turnover of Stock Lads and why Mort appeared to be participating and losing in ‘Fight Club’ every week.
“Carrot…, David appears to have a broken nose, busted lip, or a black eye and/or multiple abrasions on a permanent basis. He is stating that his wife Agnus is extremely frisky in bed, is trying to get pregnant, and ritually beats him up after he’s shot his load.”
“While this information is quite personal and I gather Agnus is some weird feminine freak of nature who can barely talk, I think he is lying to me”
"I WILL NOT TOLERATE LIES FROM MY MANAGERS", Elton suddenly erupted and bellowed somehow through clenched teeth. His face had seemingly changed to bright crimson within a split second.
Source
...'while Agnus afforded Mort the occasional shag, sadly it came at great cost'...
"Let me talk to him Mr. Welsby", said Carrot calmly, knowing Elton frequently blew his top at a minute's notice. "Maybe next time I can join him in the interview process?"
“GRRRRRRRR, OK Carrot. Make sure we get a Stock Lad who will stay for more than 2 days this time”. The colour returned to his face as quickly as it had left, the gnashing teeth abated.
Elton appeared to be appeased for the moment and Carrot could see the steam trails dissipating from the Area Managers’ ears.
The Assistant Manager had been drafted in to find a solution to this little problem of Stock Lad retention, and Carrot was getting to the end of this tether.
Intentionally hiring the burliest, unemployed mental cases off the street he could find and knowing they would twat Mort within a few days was all well and good but he needed to escape this store and its madness.
Brent appeared to be the perfect candidate. The fact that he had failed to fill in the application form stating he couldn’t write was a dream. Carrot then proceeded to ask the local dunce a few other questions pertaining to previous experience.
Carrot - “Have you filled shelves before at a Supermarket?”
Brent - “Errr… ermm.. duh..”
Carrot - “Can you add together 2 and 3?”
Brent - "Errr… ermm.. duh.., I think 6"
Carrot - “Any experience cleaning out toilets?”
Brent - “Errr… ermm.. duh.., yeah I go there to shit”
Carrot - “Do you know what a freezer is?”
Brent - “Errr… ermm.. duh.., is that like a heater?”
This one is too fucking stupid to understand basic life concepts, never mind Mort’s’ tyrannical demands; he’s perfect, thought Carrot with an inward smirk.
"I am doomed, DOOMED", cried Mort on his knees and in tears. Ever since Brent had unintentionally got the better of him regarding the ‘Druff Incident’, he had lost his senses and gone apparently quite mad.
The witnessing customers of that particular event had flocked to the Stock Lads’ aid in sympathy while some others had banged on the office door protesting about 'that horrible Manager's behaviour'.
Mort would simply wait them out.
Pitiful peons, they will get bored soon and leave. I don’t need the likes of stupid customers at my store anyway
Brent had disappeared into the back shop emerging within a few minutes with a box of Cornish Pasties and started feverishly handing them out to the checkout girls and his new found, customer fans.
Source
...'Brent had a thing, both about Cornish Pasties and Dandruff'...
"Huh huh... it's OK, just say 'Druff", he yelled excitedly pulling off a Pasty cellophane wrapper and taking a deep bite while shaking his head about vigorously.
This was it, the pinnacle of Brent's life. He had achieved all there was and he could now scoff Cornish pasties all day and was immune. Heaven was his in Kwiksave, he was destined to never be hungry again...
Source
...'Brent's 'Druff had been life saving. Paradise was his..., living the dream in Kwiksave surrounded by admirers and of course..., Cornish Pasties'...
“Ouch”, yelped Brent feeling a sharp tug on his left earlobe, the nirvana quickly leaving his mind and replaced by a terrible wrenching pain.
"OUT, OUT, OUT, OUT…. you fucking mindless, deranged, cretin”, screeched a furious, raging deafening voice close to the source of the pain.
Brent was dazed, confused, uh… huh.., what was happening?
Within a few seconds, he felt a sharp hard kick to his arse, tumbled forward, and stared at a very hard cold pavement, inches from his nose.
“… and don’t you EVER come back….”, screamed the fading voice of Mort.
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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