In the near dystopian future where Donald Trump becomes President, big changes are happening. For Sergio Simmons, a natural born American citizen, things go south when he is forcefully reconnected with his heritage, and is volunteered for a project some call “The Wall.” Who will end up paying? Take a wild guess.
Keep in mind that this was written in just one month, and most likely has some spelling, grammar, or other mistakes still hiding in there. I have gone back and tried to edit the best I can, but as far as this project goes, it was a one shot exercise for fun. Enjoy it for now before such the topic becomes irrelevant!
It was about two weeks ago I moved in. Foreclosures. For someone just moving into town following a job opportunity, it was great; and by that I mean the price. For being a first time buyer, it was fairly painless too. Foreclosures are sold by the bank, after all. Regular sellers are obnoxious and realtors are even worse.
There were a few pieces of furniture left over. The previous owner lost his job apparently, and couldn’t keep paying the mortgage. Poor sap. Well, his loss is my gain. I also didn’t have any furniture so I couldn’t complain, even if they are a little worse for wear. There was some other junk lying around that I had to clean up, but it’s a small price to pay.
I’m still sorting through it. So far all the living space is clear and I was able to move into the house properly. The last bit was down in the basement. It’s probably the biggest mess, and while it was out of the way, I wanted to get it sorted through. I can’t imagine the thought of rats or other things living down there.
At the back of the heap of things that were mostly broken, I found something built into the floor. It seemed like a hatch, and beside it was a small hole dug into the concrete leading downwards. It may have been a drain of some sort, if the cover had come off. Whatever it was, it was caked in dirt and other filth. I shined a light down it, but it just contained darkness for what I could see. Continue reading “Follow My Hand [WP]”
It was another slow night. Like, really slow. There were generally three phases of the night. The evening, which was still daytime for normal people. We got the least amount of problems during this time because it was when normal people had stopped drinking and more… dedicated people had yet to begin. The end of this period is right before we stop selling alcohol, when people want to make last minute purchases, or fail to do so because they are too late.
The second stage is generally dead. No more alcohol, sorry.
The third stage is prime time for anyone who had maken the choice, whether voluntarily or not, to not make any contribution to society. Somehow, even they took days off too. This was one of those days.Continue reading “See, Store. Ep2: Snake Escape”
The bed covers clung to his legs. He could feel the heat wash over his chest as he lay naked in bed. Underneath him the sheet was ever so slightly damp from his unwillingness to move, exhausted by the muggy air of the room. The green glow from the digital alarm clock cast a faint glow on the night stand. Looking over, he was blinded by the glow in the otherwise pitch black room. The blurry images formed into numbers as he squinted into the LED screen. 2:30.
Whenever I come home from work, my mom says that I smell like grease. Imagine that.
Of course, I don’t smell it anymore. It’s just a part of my being now. For that matter, I don’t smell much because of allergies this time of year. Sometimes my sense of smell returns for a day or so. The first thing I end up smelling is provolone cheese strangely enough.
The grease smell comes from of course the deep fryer. The regular grease comes from surface contact with things. One major surface being my glasses. And wiping them on my shirt is just going to make it worse. Either way, fryer grease is different than your regular grease. It is airborne.
It happened at my last job too. Even though I worked graveyard then, and the fryers were shut off at that time, I still left smelling like grease. The grease gets heated, and then just evaporates and enters the air. Then when the food gets transferred from the fryer to hot case, it produces steam, which also carries grease.
My glasses fog up every time I need to reach deep into the fry to grab potato wedges, tenders, or corn dogs. It makes fishing for the other things I need to get much harder. But hey, greasy food is delicious right?
School is back in session, and that’s what all the high schoolers seem to think. I’ve never seen higher stacks of JoJo’s and corn dogs than right before the lunch hour during weekdays. The first day back was about two weeks ago, and I guess it was only a half day. We discovered this when about half the school decided to line up in front of our deli stations. Conveniently we had forgotten just how much food we needed to cook to satiate all the hungry high schoolers. Maybe in a few weeks they’ll run out of money and pack a lunch like I had to do during my time in school.