Topsy Turvy, by Maria Tsangari

Untitled, by Frank Jones (USA) c. 1960

Topsy Turvy

We’ve got a pretty important job. Big assigns us our missions, and we do everything in our power to turn the world topsy-turvy. You see, we spice everything up with a dash of humour, because life would be unbearable otherwise. Let us give you an example.

Picture this: You are standing in line at the grocery store, unsure if you can afford everything in your basket. Your boss makes your life a living hell. He can’t make up his mind, and he randomly screams at you when things don’t go his way, among other things. He’s even developed the habit of blaming you for literally everything, from the global financial crises to his forgotten gym membership. Mind you, he hates going to the gym; he is a gym payer (whenever you remind him) and definitely not a gym goer. At home, you have a shitload of chores but nobody wants to help. It’s as if you live alone but must deal with invisible pigs that eat all the time and fill the sink with leftovers. And that is why you ended up at the grocery store. You needed to buy more supplies for the pigs. So, you are slouching and scrolling relentlessly on your phone at the grocery store after work, trying to avoid thinking about your credit limit.

When you’re feeling like that, we step in. Usually, someone catches our eye. A guy, for example. And not incidentally, he also catches yours. So you stop slouching over your phone. He is nothing out of the ordinary; he is just shopping and reading a text message on his phone. We’re sure you do see a pattern here. Well, it’ s not intentional. He trips with a little help (wink wink) and falls. What is your first impulse? To laugh, of course. You would have laughed and laughed even if he had stepped on a banana peel or if he bumped into someone who was also texting—we have a whole list of ways to make them fall.

You know, you ‘d still laugh even if he got a bit hurt, even if he bruised his bum or broke his wrist. It’s okay to laugh. It’s not bad. Nor is it good. It is what it is. Let us explain our life’s work: We are entrusted with saving humankind. We bring the world topsy-turvy, we unconditionally, selflessly, and perpetually focus our time and energy to think of ways and execute plans to make people trip and fall over. Sure, some people get upset. Some even had the nerve to call us “demons” or “devils.”  What is wrong with them?
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Let us clarify this: we are not into labels. We don’t call people who trip clumsy or people who laugh desperate. You know, if we go all serious about things, ennui and resentment can bring you to a nasty place, a place some call “hell on Earth.” And trust us, nobody wants that. That is the worst of punishments. So, Big knew what He was doing when he created our job description. Okay, okay, we didn’t exactly apply for it, but we love giving the world a small nudge towards topsy-turviness. It’ s a refreshing gust of commonplace, controlled chaos. Who doesn’t need that to survive?

Maria Tsangari

Maria Tsangari lives in Nicosia, Cyprus, with her two cats, Sappho and Zozo. She works in local government by day and writes fiction by night—though she often neglects it more than she’d like to admit. Her short stories, written primarily in Greek, have appeared in various literary magazines and have received awards in Cyprus. She studied Classics at the University of Cyprus and Comparative Literature at University College London (UCL).