Black Box 86ed (2 page)

But wait, something strange is happening. The crowd is scattering. It’s hard to tell but, ya everyone is running towards the ocean. O God, thousands now just absolutely sprinting to the sea and jumping in. The helicopter feed cuts off to the anchor Andy Krooper his expression
deadpan.

“It appears that gunshots have been reported at the dock. The police returned fire.
And… as you saw protesters scattering, many running to the only place available, the ocean.”

O god this is not good, I think.

“We will have more to report in the coming moments and hours but in the meantime our thoughts go out to not only the men and women in uniform, but also to the protesters, we hope everyone is okay and that we do not have to add anymore Am
erican lives to the death toll.
We will be taking a commercial break and will try and get more information to you as quickly as possible.”

A commercial steals the screen with a guy in a suit telling me how natural gas is the way to go and won’t turn the planet into one massive pressure cooker.

I look out the window, towards the gas pumps of the connected gas station. It’s strange with something so dramatic happing across the entire country and yet it just feels like just another day in the life.

Suddenly my world goes dark. “Guess who!” I hear Grace giggle behind me.

“Real mature,” I respond.

“O, come on guess, I’ll give you a hint.
I work with you and will be feeding you shots all night until you black out or make an ass of yourself.”

“Well in that case this has to be the greatest boss in the world!
Did Grace call in sick or something?”

“Haha, real funny but your guess was correct, I am pretty awesome,” s
he laughs in reply. Taking her hand off my eyes she comes around the booth pushing me farther in. “SCOOCH!”

“Jesus! All right, all right.” I slide over to the window, the
glass cool on my arm.

“I'm so ready for tonight; it's going to be amazing.” She smiles.

“I know me too, but I’m not so sure about getting black out drunk.”

“O, you don't have a choice, you know you can't say no to me with a shot in my hand.”

I start to feel queasy, does she really know that? That I can't say no to her, that I would do anything and everything she wants without a second thought? I clear my head. “Ya but it would be the alc talking,” she smiles shoving me. “Wait why are you here already I thought you don't work till six?”

“Ya I'm just picking up my check.
One sec
,”
she runs up to the office. I zone out watching her ass swinging back and forth as she leans over the counter grabbing her check. Walking back, “I'm gona go cash this, I’ll see you in a little bit,” leaning down she wraps me in a hug.

“Just hurry up and bring vodka.”

“Psh, screw you and screw your vodka, I’m bringing whiskey
and we are going to fight customers.”

I burst out into semi-controlled laugher, “sounds like a plan.”

Smiling
she walks out the door.

Turning back I see Mike my best friend and really my only friend for as long as I can remember heading towards me. “Hey man, Grace just leave?”

“Ya, she just got her check.”

“O, ok, hey come here I got to show you something.” I get up following him to the back past the grill to the break room. A tiny little place filled with more straws and cups than anything else. He stops smiling slightly, “O, wait I forgot something.”

“It better be your bowl.” I tell him.

“Just hold on a sec,” he replies disappearing and reappears in a second, smiling ear to ear.

“What?” I ask looking down to see him holding a bottle of ranch sauce in his hands.

“Don't you even think about it!”

Quickly raising the bottle he shoots it all over my cloths and into my hair. I grab for the bottle witch just causes more ranch to spill onto me.

“Dam it man you’re fucking up my regular clothes!
” I yell running around the corner, Mike racing after me I grab the ketchup bottle.

“Wait, wait man
I just washed these.”

“Do you really expect me to not retaliate?” I ask.

“Dude I’m dead serious man don't do it.”

“Fuck you,” I reply and spray ketchup all over his shirt and face.

“The hell man I told you I just washed my uniform!” He sprays me again.

“At least it’s your uniform and not your regular clothes!” I retaliate again spraying his pants this time.

“Fuck you,” he yells shoving me.

“No man, fuck you!” I shout back pushing him into the large cups.

“What in the hell is going on here,” we turn to see Mike’s mom, aka Jody aka boss lady. A short brunette woman in her late forties
, with a slight beer gut and hands that are constantly holding a cigarette or covering her full flavored menthol coughs from them.

“He sprayed my uniform and I just washed it,” Mike yells at her.

“He started it!
He sprayed me first,” I retort pushing him into the cups again.

“Hey! Hey! Both of you stop it right now or you will be deck scrubbing for the rest of the night. Now Mike wipe that shit off your shirt and get your ass to the front there are customers.
Will can you please clock in now, I’m tired my feet hurt and I need a god dam cigarette.”

“O, fine,” I reply.

“Thank ya sweetie, dishes are soaking whenever you wanna get to em.”

“Ok,” I reply heading to the bathroom to change into my uniform. I pass the front register where Mike
is helping
two larger than life women starring hungrily at the menu (and I mean a solid 350 pounds).

“Prick” he says under his voice. I just turn smiling and wave not breaking stride towards the bathroom.

CHAPTER…

It may seem like an odd friendship but Mike and I have been inseparable almost our entire lives. I swing the bathroom door open and walk in. We met in kindergarten and have been friends ever since. I still remember the day we started hanging out. We made a tank out of building blocks and played army.

I don’t know why but I’ve been overly reminiscent lately. All my memories with Mike suddenly flood through my head. Sneaking cigarettes in the fifth grade from his mom and smoking them behind their trailer. Or the time we took a six
pack from his mom and drank it behind the trailer. Huh, wow our entire friendship seems to be just sneaking things from his mom and doing them behind his trailer. Maybe not all of them but I must admit it seems like we did that a lot. I remember one afternoon his mom had just got home from the bar. (She worked third shift and would sit at the bar all day till we got out of school.)

“Look what I found,” Mike whispered as if his passed out mom would wake up.

I look at him,
seeing what at the time looked like a funny skinny cigarette. “What is it?”

“I don't know, but we should smoke it.”

“O man I don't know what if you mom finds out.”

“O c'mon you know as well as I do she just thinks she misplaces everything we take.”

This was very true, I’m sure there are textbooks where she would qualify as an alcoholic and even if she weren’t looking back now she probably wouldn’t have cared anyways.

“Fine but we need to go behind the house though.”

We stood up taking one of those long lighters made for candles and sneak out the back door. I remember my heart racing as I followed him. Crouching behind the bushes we light up. He took the first hit, his face turning instantly to one of disgust as he choked out the smoke.

“Holy crap, it tastes so bad.”
He gasps handing it to me.

Bringing it to my lips and taking the tiniest drag, yet it still hit me like a wall of bricks as I choke out the smoke.

“God I don’t think this is supposed to be smoked, who would want to smoke something that tastes so bad?

“I don’t know. Maybe we should have eaten it?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I feel a little weird though is, is it working?

“I don't know.
I don't feel anything.”

I hand it back him,
he takes the smallest hit like I did breathing it out a little more smoothly this time.

BA
M! BAM! BAM! “Anyone in there?
Imma bout to piss myself.”

“Almost done,” I yell back. I realize I stopped peeing a good minute ago and am just standing here, reminiscing with my dick in my hands. I quickly zip up, put on my Mcshirt and open the door. It's Mike, “Jesus what do you want.”

“I'm just here to say I forgive you.”

“What?
You started it.”

“Now let’s not get into who started what, and who did what to whom. “I’m just saying I forgive you and you may go in peace.” He says drawing a cross in the air.

“O thank you pastor I’m so relieve.”

“You have to let me hit you though.”

“What?
No.”

“You know we need to be even. I feel like I’m down one,
so for the sake of our friendship I must hit you.”

“O for Christ sake just punch me in the shoulder,” and as soon as I finish my sentence he hits me a little harder than I would have liked. “Feel better?” I ask rubbing my shoulder.

“Yes, yes sir I do.”

“Fine, let’s get back there I'm starting to make some serious inroads with your mom.”

“OOO, real funny man I
think I should get another hit.
Oh, I’m gona buy a scratch off be there in a sec, and you still gotta make those monstrosities their food.”

“Fine,” I sigh. Turning the corner passing the two
behemoth women scowling at me, obviously upset about the casual nature of this particular McDans. “Sorry about the wait,” I tell them.

“You wash your hands?” One of them spits at me.

Immediately realizing I forgot to with Mike distracting me. “Yep sure did.”

“They look dry to me.”

“Well I dried them.” Ignoring their huffs of disapproval, I walk back into the grill, turning to the bun toaster throwing their buns in. My eyes instinctively glaze over preparing for another day in this McHell hole.

Grace closes tonight though so I suppose it’s all for a good cause. I will craft every word, every joke, and every gesture towards her being mine after tonight. I stare at the bottom tray of the toaster waiting for the buns to drop. Its heat brushing softly again my face as the gears slowly turn inside. Plop, plop they drop and I quickly puzzle piece their mcburgers together throwing them onto a tray, they quickly swipe it and scurry away to the far end table to stuff their faces and stare at their phones.

Dam I’m starting to think I’m a little pessimistic. These could be super nice people who are just really hungry. But I’m just unable to see them that way. Maybe I’ve become callus from working here too long, or maybe, maybe I’m just an asshole. I'll have to think more about it later, although I’m leaning towards the latter.

This is what I’ve accomplished. Nineteen years and counting reaching my true potential one cheeseburger at a time. Right about now is where I would start my slide show of excuses. That I’m a victim of circumstances. But... I don't know. It just feels like if I was to nut up and really try at something I could accomplish almost anything. It’s just... When I look at the world, at people. It takes an entire lifetime and a lot of luck to do something truly worth being proud of. I just feel that I would be perfectly happy with a bunch of little accomplishment. Maybe I’m a big picture guy, or I’m just lazy and scared of failure so I just set my sights low. It's weird the position I’ve gotten myself in. I feel as though I'm meant to be better. That I’m supposed to be better than just working at a fast food job. Only question is what qualifies as better? Is it a paycheck? It sure as hell seems to me that the only real accomplishment you can have is getting fat stacks no matter how much of your soul and life you have to piece meal out to get it.

I'm just not ready to do that yet. I wouldn't say I’m happy. Content seems to be more like it. Content with waking up, playing video games all day, getting dressed, smoking a bowl on my walk to work and doing an easy brain dead task in which I make only a penny more an hour than it would be to be illegal. I don’t know. I’m not ready to accept the fact that life is one long series of habitual compromises and shitty situations ultimately leading to a wife, two kids, a dead end job, and a retirement plan. And that’s a good ending.

But then there’s Grace. Maybe that's why I’m still here. Just so hopelessly lost in her that I'm letting the time and my future pass me by. I'm not blaming her, far from it. When I'm with her I smile and wave at all the opportunities that pass me by.

I grab a bun out of the metal cart next to the toaster and drop it in, I’m so hungry. Dam the way I talk about her sounds a little obsessive, doesn't it? I'm not sure if it is or not but all I know is that it's torture. I'm pretty good at reading people and situations but when your friends with someone for so long and all the barriers are gone, there is a razor thin line between BFFs and finally getting her almost completely naked after a near hemorrhage to the brain over whether or not she's ready to take her top off and you finally have her black g string being slowly pushed down her.