Disgruntled - Chapter 1 (516 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by funkchomper (View user info) at 2004-12-10 11:33:57 EST
He awoke to a strange sound. Both palms ground the sleep out of his eyes as he kicked his heels over the side of his mattress. They hit the floor sooner than expected, and he wryly remembered for the third time this week that he had no bed frame. After all, only a single mattress could fit in his wheelchair accessible van.
The sound continued, morphing into a recognizable tone as his ears adjusted to the morning. He picked up the cell phone next to his bed and checked the incoming number.
"Hello?"
"Ronnie? Where are y-"
"Sorry, wrong number."
When the phone rang again a few seconds later, he thumbed the power button. What kind of a name was Ronnie, anyway? Should have asked the man himself. Ah well, too late for that.
*****
Jecoa was on his way back to the small computer shop he called work, listening to a local talk show and idly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in the dense Orlando traffic. Today had been another normal Thursday, swapping out more dead power supplies at one of the schools his shop serviced. They had received a bad batch that went into at least a thousand computers destined for schools in their tri-county area and as a result the damn things were blowing up left and right, often taking a motherboard, CDRW, or the whole computer out with it. Jecoa got a lot of the tedious work because he was reliable and quick.
His eyes paused on the gas gauge in the company Ranger and made a mental note to fill up the tank at the 7-11 near the office.
*****
He set down the phone on the plastic crate next to his mattress and walked to the window. His hands clasped behind his back, his mind worked while his vacant eyes seemed to look outside, unconsciously taking note of the rain that fell in slow, heavy drops, as if wrung from some gigantic wash-rag.
He should be scared. He should be running. Instead, he was... he was...
What WAS he doing? He felt a distinct sense of purpose for the first time in his life, but what was the end result? A goal would be nice, he thought, but... not necessary.
*****
When he pulled up to the office, Jecoa saw his co-workers outside in what seemed to be a sort of conference. That's odd, his brain stuttered, looks like the entire production department, service too. After parking the Ranger, he walked up to the small group clustered near the door with three dead power supplies in hand.
"Hey, Rick, what's going on?"
"Ron just announced he's dissolving production and outsourcing to some place in Georgia. The boys downstairs are fucked!"
"You've gotta be kidding..."
"Nope. On top of that, he's cutting the service department in half. I guess he's getting that boat after all, huh?"
"Wait, service too? Who's he letting go?"
Rick's face dropped, and Jecoa realized he was among the unemployed. Again. His grip tightened around the cords he was holding, small wires attached to the three heavy metallic enclosures. Then he heard Ron's voice.
"Jecoa, could I have a word with you in my office?"
Numbly, Jecoa followed Ron through the production department. Normally buzzing with activity at this time in the afternoon, the place was deserted. Everyone was outside, commiserating, sympathizing, venting. Jecoa shut Ron's office door at his request.
"Thank you. You're probably wondering why I asked you in here. As you know, it's the end of the year and we've had a few setbacks. I'm afraid we're in the red, and I'm having to make some tough decisions. I'm going to have to let you go, Jecoa. You've been a tremendous asset to the company, so believe me when I say it's not due to lack of ability or effort. It just comes down to numbers. Plea-"
Something inside Jecoa snapped. He could see the insincerity behind Ron's eyes. He had seen this same cycle take place year after year, his co-workers being let go because the company was "suffering", only to see ol' Ronnie roll up to his reserved spot in a new Audi or whatever bonus he bestowed upon himself.
Jecoa closed his eyes as Ron droned on, and imagined his arm swinging in an arc, the heavy power supplies humming through the air at the end of their cables. His mind's eye saw Ron's eyes widen, his arms coming up too late to prevent the sickening crunch as the crude mace made contact with his skull, sending his body sideways across the L-shaped executive desk.
Jecoa smiled to himself and opened his eyes.
"Shit!"
*****
He turned up his collar as he stepped outside, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. The white Chevy's alarm chirped, and as he swung into the driver's seat he remembered the word that had been eluding him. "Vigilante," he breathed. Yes, that fit. Jecoa slid the shifter to reverse and thought about his next corporate sinner.
User Reviews
Submitted by funkchomper (user info) at 2004-12-10 14:59:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
A boy without mischief is like a bowling ball without a liquid center.
-- Homer Simpson
Lisa the Greek
That's what this post needs - humor!
Submitted by funkchomper (user info) at 2004-12-10 12:16:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks, you.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2004-12-10 11:48:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
This is pretty good. I am looking forward to chapter 2.