Is This Thing On?Submitted by DaBeast at 2017-04-02 05:05:37 EDT
Rating: 1.8 on 5 ratings (6 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
I'm burning CDs for the car so I don't have to listen to the gawdsdamned radio. I'd forgotten how boring it is to burn CDs. Damnit. So, heya, howdy, and here I am. Looked like you were taking roll call earlier so, yeah...
Every day above ground is a good day. Who said that? Don't recall. Old guy came into the store the other day and I looked at him and just said that, out of the blue. He smiled, met my eyes, cackled, and told me that his grandpa used to say that, too. We shared a tired grin and he wandered away into the night. Never saw him before in my life. Doubt I'll ever see him again. But there, in the 3 A.M. quiet, there was a quiet understanding. I'll keep that memory for a while.
Sill breathing so it can't be all bad, right? Some people come through and I'll throw that at them like a challenge or a length of rope. The ones that bring that out of me are younger than I am and there's this desperation burning in their eyes, something scared and haunted... or hunted. It's difficult to distinguish. Every one of them will throw me a look over their shoulder and our eyes will meet and they acknowledge me for a second and then turn away. Sometimes, they ask for help. If I have it, I give it. I remember seeing those eyes in the mirror many times. There is no kindness that will ever eradicate it but some small ones can help ease the pain for a little while. Some of them come back but not as many as I'd prefer. I worry about the ones that haven't come by in a while. Sometimes, their mug shots appear in the local jail review magazine. Once, it was an obituary. You can't save anyone, really, can you? But you keep trying because you escaped it and it hurts to think of leaving anyone in that particular Hell if you could only throw out a hand and drag them from it.
The young hotties come in, clothing too tight, eyes too wild, tan and lean and pretty as the day is long. They make me grin. I remember being young and stupid, too. It was a fun time. Let them have at it but make sure you try to keep them safe. Be honest with 'em, put a funny spin on it, and don't let them get away with anything and, for whatever reason, they love it and they'll be some of my best repeat customers. Some of 'em flirt and they're just precious. Go on with ya, kid. I've had bowel movements bigger than you. I ain't got time to teach you exactly what your naughty bits are good for and, hell, are you even potty trained yet? I bet you still can't decide which side of the bed to wet. Quit trying to confuse and startle the old people.
I like to go outside around 2 A.M. and I sit on the pile of firewood by the front door and I spark a cigarette to life and listen to the night. The parking lot is empty except for my car and the gas pumps are bathed in the cold, blue florescents of the revolving billboard that sits in front of the store. There's a chicken hawk that hunts around that time and I hear him crying somewhere not that far away and it echoes against the brick building across the street and streaks through the air. Sometimes, there's crickets. Always, there are moths. Beetles, mosquitos, June bugs in the last three days. The store across a side street from mine blares bubblegum pop into the night. Sometimes, I'm ok with it if there's a decent song playing - last night it was Blondie's "One Way Or Another" so I was ok. Night before, it was some bubblegum abomination and I responded by bellowing "Let It Go" at the top of my lungs from my own lot. Fuck you people. Really.
The third shift is quiet, the customers are few and far between, and it's mainly just getting the store ready for the first shift. You stock, you clean, you make right what the other two shifts got wrong, and when a customer appears from the night, you give them a smile and ask about their day, and you listen to them. It's not difficult.
But it is rewarding.
Ok, CDs burned.
Hasta la pasta, bitches!