Tingle - Pounded By The Pound: Turned Gay By The Socioeconomic Implications Of Britain Leaving The European Union

POUNDED BY THE POUND

Turned Gay By The Socioeconomic Implications Of Britain Leaving The European Union

By Chuck Tingle

I open my eyes slowly, trying my best to regain my bearings. Im in my bedroom, dull sunlight streaming through the cracks of the nearby blinds and flickering across my face. Everything around me is easily recognizable, yet for some reason it all seems very different this morning.

I take account of my surroundings and myself. My name is Alex Liverbort and Im twenty-five years old, Im in my rented flat in the heart of London and I have a splitting headache.

All of this is true, yet I still feel somehow disassociated from my own body.

Plus, Im hungover.

I stand up and realize now that my clothes are still on, meaning that I must have simply fallen flat on the bed and passed out at some point during the previous evening. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror I see that my hair is disheveled and messy, my eyes red as they struggle to focus.

I pull open the door of my bedroom and head out into the living quarters to see whats what, immediately finding my roommate, Krissy Buttmore, sitting on the couch with her attention glued to the television.

What happened last night? I ask her, rubbing my eyes. My head is killing me.

Krissy glances over, looking much less disheveled then me but just as distressed. Its all going to hell, my roommate informs me bluntly.

What is? I question.

Krissys expression quickly changes to one of confusion.

I think I blacked out, I admit. I have no idea whats going on.

My roommates eyes go wide. You dont remember the vote? Britain has decided to leave the European Union. Brexit, remember?

Suddenly, it all comes flooding back. I remember watching at the local pub as the poll numbers came in, slowly but surly drowning out all hope that I had in a future as part of the EU.

My spirits crushed, I took to drinking. Everything else is a blur, but at some point I vaguely recall running down the block to the River Thames and throwing a bottle of wine into the water.

So were leaving the union? I ask.

Yep, Krissy confirms.

I let out a long sigh, then look past my friend, out through the open window of our second story apartment and onto the streets of London below. The usual folks are hustling and bustling about, continuing on their merry way as if nothing out of the ordinary had even happened.

Seems like everythings fine, I tell Krissy. Im not exactly sure what I expected after my night of alcohol fueled depression and sociopolitical terror, but this isnt it.

The pound is losing value fast, Krissy notifies me. Its in free fall. The whole economy is bound to collapse.

I hear the words that shes saying, and I completely understand that they should strike even more fear into my heart, but for some reason they dont. Maybe all of the anger and frustration was purged from my system the night before, because right now I dont really feel much of anything.

Im gonna go for a walk, I tell my roommate, trying to make it sound like Ive got some kind of emotional steam valve to let off, but really just not knowing what else to do with myself.

Without another word, I turn around and grab my coat, heading down the stairs and out onto the busy streets. I immediately take a left and head towards the river, to the same vague spot that I had somehow ended up the night before.

I cant help but notice how excruciatingly normal everything seems. Across the street two handsome men are walking a dog together, while a Kabob shop to my left serves up some hungry customers. I see busses, I see taxis, I see everything that I would expect to see despite these dire warnings of economic collapse.

When I finally reach the edge of the River Thames I find a nice quiet bench and take a seat, looking out across the deep blue water and to the seemingly endless grey sky above. While some people might find the dreariness of today unsettling, I find it deeply comforting, yet another sign that some things just never change.

Across the waves of the river I can see Parliament, and I cant help but wonder what kind of heads are rolling over there right now. Im sure there is some kind of political chaos underway, but Im certain it will work itself out.

Finally feeling connected to my own body once again, I lean back into the bench and let out a long sigh, closing my eyes as sweet relief washes over my body.

Suddenly, there is a deafeningly loud crackle of lighting in front of me, causing me to nearly fall out of my seat as I let out a cry of surprise. Floating some two or three feet above the sidewalk is a black and blue seam of electricity, a hovering slit in the fabric of space and time that pours outward with a sizzling heat.

Alex! calls a voice from beyond the strange universal rift. I can barely make out the figures shape, but it appears to be a massive, sentient coin; one pound to be exact.

Hello? I question, shielding my eyes from the electrical storm that appears to be occurring right before me. Who are you?

Theres no time! yells the giant coin from the other side of the rift. Come with me!

Im utterly horrified and, if Im going to be honest, my first instinct is to immediately turn around and run away. Its only then that I notice something brilliant and burning through the hole in space-time. Within the rift I can see The Parliament, or what used to be The Parliament, as the entire building roars with a towering flame.

Is that what it looks like? I call out.

Yes! screams the giant sentient coin. We need your help, Alex. I cant hold this open much longer!

Suddenly, all of the fear leaves and is replaced with a powerful, frantic energy. Britain needs me!

Without another thought, I jump up from the bench and run forward, diving through the trans universal slice and ending up carried to a hellish landscape of fire and smoke on the other side.

Where am I? I ask this mysterious pound. Whats happening?

Youre in the future, explains the giant sentient monetary instrument, but its not safe here. Follow me!

The pound takes off floating along the edge of the River, which I now see is blood red and bubbling like the lava of a molten volcano. Many of the once familiar buildings are gone, while others still burn in behemoth pylons of flame. Strange creatures circle the sky in red uniforms with large black hats, dressed the Queens Guard but with leathery reptilian wings and extended knifelike teeth.

How long has it been? I ask the living pound as we hustle along. Seventy years? Eighty?

Its been a month, the sentient currency tells me.

A month, I stammer, but, how did this happen?

Suddenly, bullets strike in rapid succession across the ground beside us, fired from above by one of the monstrous winged guardsmen.

This way! The floating coin shouts, leading me past the wreckage of a toppled four-story bus. The pound sees me looking at the strange vehicle and offers a quick explanation. To make up for lost revenue we invested in four story busses instead of the traditional double-decker. They were too top heavy and started tipping over everywhere. It was utter panic in the streets.

What about the guards? I question.

The government couldnt afford to pay the Queens Guards anymore so we used these unfinished snake and bat hybrids that MI5 has been developing, explains the coin. It was not a good idea.

I can see that, I tell him. Of course, what I am most curious about is how the future managed to create a massive, living, breathing pound, but I say nothing.

Finally, the two of us find an abandoned pub to duck into, hidden from the strange uniformed monsters who circle menacingly in the dark sky above. The coin slams the door behind us and locks it, then staggers over to the bar and grabs a bottle from behind the counter, pouring himself a drink.