I have a thunks which has been bouncing round in my fat empty head awhile and I'm curious to know what y'all thinks.' It's regarding Rickie and his chicken-killing livelihood - we don't know what he does but I think we all assume it's something at the arse-end of the pay scale, and most of those jobs are really fucking hard work.
In context, I'm going back a bazillion years; tiny Tiny had just hit the workforce so was a useless teenager as they pretty much all are and thus paid accordingly. That plus a side job almost covered the rent in an absolute shithole....you know the deal, we all go through that stage. The upside, of course, is that first real freedom at which most of us hurl ourselves like a crack-fuelled berzerker. It works because everybody is pretty much in the same cold, soggy boat.
And this is where the thunks about Rickie come in. Until Tsar Amba hit, he was in a functioning house-share with a sentient toupee and animated thumb and they're all chugging along in tandem, they're all roughly equal. Erk was mimsying about anxiety and stopping work but that's his husband; it's between them if Erk wants to be a housewife and that wouldn't change the dynamic particularly.
But the Cheesebeast has
totally changed the fundamental principal of a house-share, which largely works on that all-in-same-boat thing) I know that when I was in a similar position it all pootled along fine until my mate stopped working and, over time, I came to resent the shit out of him cos of the differential; the fundamental underpinnings had changed. Besides, I wanted to lie around all day getting hammered too *Clanger mutters to herself in a low susurration of discontent*
But Rickie's position is even worse, cos not only is he working hard for a fraction of what Albert gets in $$$ but he's isolated now, so the bond of all pulling together is broken. Maybe I'm just an arsehole, but I think if I went out and slogged through some hideous, tedious job, I would gradually build up a powerful need to stab one of these lazy fuckers who just squelched around all day talking about how Hard They Struggle and somehow managing the impossible; do fuck all whilst simultaneously making an endless mess.
I know it's probably beyond Albert's minute, lard-coated brain to have considered it when she first flumphfed herself into their lives, but this latest uwu-poor-me-I'm-sad-feel-bad-look-how-you-made-me-feel-you....you-HORRIDness/
yay slay gorl whoamIeven errybody lubsmeandI'mfuckingfabulousdonchaknow? Mememememyfeelsmyneedsmywantsmemememe bollockery, just.....how can anyone be that self-unaware? Or totally not care because Not About Me™?
TL
r is resentment in this si-choo-ay-shun* normal? Or an I a psycho and Rickie a saint? And does Albert not even grasp in the slightest how much she has negatively affected all of them, or just not give a fuck?
* Endlessly I pray that Albert will hook onto a new word, cos if I hear one more slay/gorl/booboo/whatever-seeyoopacyooot-word-she's-currently-uh-huUHuuuurbSAAAAYST-with I'll end up in a room with soft walls and a box of crayons. Then she does buy a new word from Wommart and I start wishing she hadn't. Fml.
not the very next day 
