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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 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: 'Agnus' Surprise Visit' - (March 1980)
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 the Shit Manager: Edith's Offerings - (October 1980)
- Mort as a Manager with 
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oppression Supreme' - (December 1980)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Tripe & Gizzard Flavour' - (February 1981)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Gladys Shufflebottom: Part One' - (February 1981)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Gladys Shufflebottom: Part Two' - (February 1981)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Heat Machine' - (March 1981)
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Day Off' - (April 1981)
...'February 1981'...
...'WARNING - ADULT CONTENT'...
Rap, rap, rap…
Mort jumped and stared through the Kwiksave office one-way window, designed to let him see outside, while showing only a reflection to the person outside.
“It’s Miss Shufflebottom…, for you boss”, smirked Sharon mischievously.
Mort cringed, his thoughts racing, desperately, anything to avoid facing that bull-faced, shrivelled, demanding pensioner who’d already landed him in trouble with Elton.
“Tell her I had to go home”, Mort demanded with a touch of desperation.
“What’s it worth, boss?” Sharon piped up immediately, her eyes fluttering provocatively at him.
damn the woman, I know she despises me, loathes me, hates me, what the fuck is she doing now?
“Anything, ANYTHING…”, spluttered Mort, now trying to make himself invisible at the back of the office.
RAP, RAP, RAP…, came the knocks once again, more insistent this time.
“A favour, Mr Mortenson, of my choosing..”
Sharon smiled innocently at Mort, revealing the damaged incisor prominently while holding her forefinger on her bottom lip in a feigned pose.
“Yes, yes, yes… whatever”, Mort’s words stumbled out of his mouth as he cringed now behind the office door, which was due to be imminently opened.
that fucking evil scheming seductress is going to be my undoing, my sacking, my...
“...If you decide to change your mind, boss, and go back on your word, well, let’s just say Mandy and I are still in contact”
Sharon looked seriously at Mort, all mirth quickly disappearing from her visage as she stared at him with intensity.
fuck me, how does she change from a succubus…
Without waiting for a response, Sharon opened the office door, bestowing a huge smile on the frowning Gladys, complete with Rover, who eagerly began sniffing at Sharons' nether regions.
Gladys visibly brightened, fully expecting that horrible ‘Manager’ to answer.
“Hello dearie, I was wondering if that ‘Store Manager’ could reach up for a... cough... tin of Heart with Jelly flavour food for my Rover. He’s been suffering lately due to that awful Tripe & Gizzard he ate yesterday”, Gladys spluttered, emphasising the ‘Store Manager’ part with more than a touch of contempt.
Sharon closed the office door, much to Mort’s relief, and ushered Gladys around next to the one-way window. Mort could see they were having an intense conversation, Gladys going through an array of emotions from anger to frustration, to a smile and then outright laughter.
What the fuck was she telling her? How could that chain-smoking, leathery old crone even have the ability to laugh?
Mort began to feel distinctly uncomfortable as Sharon led Gladys further away from the office, heading to the dog food aisle where that lazy, worthless
I was indeed cleaning the floor and looked visibly perturbed at the incoming sight. Had Gladys mentioned her eternal celibacy to Sharon, would Sharon think I wanted to shag Gladys in the back shop?
All those wrinkles, excess rolls of ancient fat, tobacco breath and Rover may also want to partake, bestiality?...., with a massive surge of self-control, I exorcised the horrific thoughts from my head with a visible hard shake.
“Slobby darling, I know you are really busy, but when you are finished, please can you get that tin of Heart and Jelly for Miss Shufflebottom?”
How could I resist with such a flirtatious look as that? The plan to force Mort out had not worked, but I had a feeling Sharon was up to something. Maybe she would spill the beans later?
I quickly finished the mopping, placing the stinking bucket of diarrhoea in the Kwiksave public toilets, grabbed the ladders and struggled to get that one fucking tin of dog food.
“Thank you so much, dearie”, beamed Gladys.
“I had no idea Mr Mortenson had such problems with his..., let’s say man parts’, she whispered, looking around in case anyone was looking.
Man parts? What the fuck had Sharon told him?
“I honestly don’t like the man, but to think he picked up..., cough... a terrible virus that has the side effect of causing him temper tantrums while …cough… simultaneously ravaging his penis length is a tragedy”, continued Gladys in her finest clandestine voice.
I backed off a little in an attempt to avoid catching an airborne version of lung cancer while trying to process what I was hearing.
“I will give him a big smile next time… cough, splutter…, I see him, poor man. Who can blame him for his toddler attitude”
Gladys shuffled off, into the bowels of Kwiksave, leaving me more than a little bewildered.
Mort’s dick had been shortened by what…, Agnus had taken a chunk out of it during a disastrous fellatio encounter? Had they visited that Rhododendron bush again, reliving old glories?
What about Gladys declaration of virginity? One minute, she was revolted by the thought of a penis, the next, she's discussing the same topic with me without even a hitch?
There's more to this Gladys than she's letting on, I thought, watching the old lady disappear around the corner, Rover in tow.
“All sorted, boss”, said Sharon, entering the office in an overly exaggerated, exuberant manner.
“What did you tell her?” demanded Mort, an anxious expression forming.
“She understands your problem now, boss; she will be very pleasant toward you in the future”, she replied, gazing toward Mort’s crotch with an knowing smile.
“WHAT HAVE…”, started Mort, realising something untoward had been revealed about him.
“… now about that favour you owe me”, continued Sharon, the sultry look immediately back on her face…
Mort, the Shit Manager is a Serial Shitposting Fiction Story inspired by Torundel the Shitposter by 
All images created using ChatGPT, (GPT-5.5). All narrative created by
My Urban Exploration Tales can be found directly on the internet via my Website 'Tales of the Urban Explorer'.
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