I don't need no instructions to know how to rock.

Headquarters

The door was open slightly, that door. The office at the end of the hallway, the one that they had all passed  by day after day, not noticing the person in it was slowly losing it mentally. Was quietly having a nervous breakdown, about  to crack. Seth had heard about him coming in with dark circles under his eyes, red eyes looking hungover, but that wasn't anything special. More than a few people in the office had come in after a weekend, especially a long weekend, looking that way so it hadn't raised his eyebrows much. Other than that his behavior had been unremarkable, Satisfactory. Nothing to show that Dave would show up drunk at the diner was the intent on killing Alex, and in the process get into an accident, killing Alex, involuntary and then killing himself. He had been working for the company for 15 years before that without incident. Without much notice at all really. Seth couldn't remembering hearing much of anything about him before he was promoted to district manager, he had been a general manager of one of their car washes before without much to distinguish himself.  That guy, a seemingly normal person, married for 20 years, had simply melted down in the course of a couple months.

It had taken him a long time to fully digest the whole situation. Dave gone, Alex gone, two fairly important positions to fill and each of them like to be filled from someone from the general public. The general public, what a truly terrifying prospect Seth thought, as he looked out onto the highway. Seth had another, slightly larger office, that faced the hallway as well. With a view almost the same as Dave's his window facing the south, Dave's the north. The general public, hell, there were a good portion of psychos among that group. And a small portion, small but still there, that were serial killers, criminals, or people who otherwise had plans steal as much as they could from the company, and it was up to a small group of people to figure out who stable ones were. Dave had been stable, Frank had been stable, it was impossible to asses who was truly stable, he was starting to believe. Still they needed someone to fill Alex's position at the diner, it had been too long. They are starting to think they don't even need a manager, which sets a bad precedent, Alex thought. Unfortunately that person had to be culled from the general public. A terrifying prospect.

Wait a minute, something occurred to him. We could compromise between the two, cousin Eric. Eric was blood and he had a good heart but always seemed to be lacking in direction. He had been working for the company since he was 15. It seemed early on like school wasn't something he was much into so they figured
they'd just put him somewhere in the family business. He had gotten fired the first time for stealing a case of beer. Of course later he apologized and they hired him back. Then they had moved him to the car wash and he had gotten fired for smoking weed in the back. After that they had moved him back to the gas station and they found out he was sleeping with one of the underage cashiers and she was threatening to to to the police. They had managed to sweep that under the rug, and finally they had him on 3rd shift at one of the gas stations where he could do whatever he wanted. Yeah, Eric that would work. Despite all of his faults he always showed up. We could make this work, Seth thought.


Fucking tickets! Ed thought as the printer spewed out another one. There were six hanging altogether. Let them fucking sit there, he thought as he flipped the steak. He already had a board full of them, and he was only one person. Why the fuck are there so many people in here? He thought to himself dropping some fries. Usually it was pretty quiet when he came in at midnight, maybe a few slips left over from the previous shift, but not much. Tonight, however had gone south from the start. He had woken up at quarter to 11, still hungover from the beer he had at lunchtime and barely managed to get up for the shift. He had a cup of black coffee for breakfast and headed over. There were a few cars out front when he pulled in but all and all it didn't look like much. When he had pulled up to the back and walked in the backdoor, he passed the cook from the previous shift coming out, a bearded fellow with a lazy eye, Ed had nodded and not thought much of it. It was 10 to midnight when he punched in but it looked like the guy had already left. He wasn't sure who it was, they had hired a few new people, and all of them seemed unstable. They hadn't had an official manager for a couple of weeks so he wasn't sure who was hiring these people.

The line looked like a bomb had gone off in it as he walked in. The grill black and covered with grease, everything empty on the line. Still the board was clear, or so it had appeared. A few minutes later he noticed it, the fucker had left five slips dangling in the printer and left. Ed had checked the time on some of them and some were from 11:30. What the fuck is wrong with these people? He thought. That had been the start, then more people had come pouring in. Then the waitresses from other shift had started asking where their food was, he had explained the situation and everything had gone out but it had gotten heated for a little bit. Now it was even worse. He put out the first two orders on the board, just 15 or more to go, he thought. It was now past one and it seemed highly unlikely he was getting any more help. Anyhow he had heard that the company was trying to cut labor, and their shift was the most likely to get cut. The other waiter John, worked alone some nights cooking and waiting tables.

Ed flipped a couple pancakes, I think I have half a joint in my car. He knew he smoked half of it before coming in but he could vaguely recall leaving the other half in his car before he left for work. It was all a haze, it usually was waking up in the darkness to get ready to work. Always felt somewhat off, unnatural. They hadn't hired a new manager yet though he heard someone was starting on Monday. Ed peered out through the window toward the dining room, a couple large parties had just walked in. Fuck, oh well, he thought I'm just one man, just gonna do the best I can.

That asshole still owes me fifty bucks Sam thought as he pedaled up the hill towards work. Mike had been ducking him for the past two weeks, avoiding eye contact and giving terse one words to anything he asked him. When they worked together he usually did prep in the back and now it seemed like he was doing this intentionally to hide. The first time he asked him for it he said he 'Forgot it at home,' the second time he said he'd have it Friday. When Friday had arrived he worked a morning shift, and had been gone when he'd gotten in for his shift. After that he'd just decided to stop speaking to Mike for a while except for work related things. He felt the sweat down his back as he came down the hill to work. One good thing about biking everywhere, he thought as he came through the parking lot to the diner, is you definitely lose weight. He gone down over 10 pounds already. Sam noticed Mike's car parked out back as he pedaled up to the shed, looks like he's on tonight. There was another car parked next to his also. One he hadn't seen before. Sam walked his bike over to the shed and pushed his bike inside. The shed was empty as he approached but the familiar stale smell of cigarettes greeted him as he entered.

Sam looked at his phone, ten minutes to four. A little time to spare, he thought as he sat down and reached into his backpack. As he took out his bowl he saw Mike emerge from the back of the diner. Fuck, he thought, but said nothing as he entered. 'Hey you want to smoke?' Mike said as he pulled out a large spliff from his shirt pocket and lit it. Sam nodded. 'Sorry about the money thing. I got you something.' Mike said as he handed Sam the joint. Sam took it and took a large hit. Mike pulled out a bag from his pocket and handed it to Sam. 'I had a little extra from a bag I got. Some Kush. Hope were ok now.' 'Yeah.' He passed the joint back to Mike. Eight minutes now, 'I heard we have a new manager starting.' Mike announced. 'Yeah I heard something like that too.' Sam replied. 'They said he's going to be on the line tonight, working with you.' That's weird, ok. 'You know what I heard also, is that he smokes weed.' 'No shit?' Sam replied. 'Yeah that's what they said.' Very interesting, Sam thought. Mike you are ok, Sam thought feeling the buzz from the weed. He had half a gram in a film canister in his bag but now he could save that for later, always a good thing. 'So he'll be with me on the line tonight?' Sam asked. 'Yeah, til midnight.' He nodded. They finished up the joint. He got up and headed towards the backdoor, a little more stoned then he would like to be but feeling ok.  He had dreamed of her again last night, that she was back. It had been just real enough to sting before he'd woken up. As a result he'd been in a kind of haze all day from it. Now it mixed with the haze from the weed as he went inside, mixing with the strong smell of grease and pancakes.

He walked through the back prep area to the office and punched in walking out to the line. Jim was the only person on the line, 'It's all yours bud.' Jim said to him as he walked over to the grill. He had a look of exhaustion on his face. 'Oh and were down to our last two bags of french fries.' Jim as he walked toward the office. 'Great.' Sam replied. At least they always keep things interesting in here. Not surprising, no one had ordered them. He wasn't sure who had been ordering everything for the past few weeks. Fuck now I have to meet a new person, Sam thought as he walked into the back freezer to check on what they did have, maybe sub out the fries for onion rings. Have to engage in small talk, attempting to find common ground on anything. When there was those lulls in the action, no tickets in the printer, those weird gaps which led to his least favorite question, 'So what do you like to do in your spare time?' 'Get fucked up.' Always struck him as probably not the best answer so he'd always make something up, reading, working out. It was like you somehow had to justify your existence to people, you can't only work 40 hours a week you had to have all these fucking outside interests too. Hopefully its busy for that reason alone. Doesn't look too bad Sam thought as he left the freezer. Enough stuff to sub in.

Sam saw him as he walked out to the line, a short guy maybe 5 feet tall at the most with a black social distortion shirt. 'Hi I'm Eric, I'll be with you out here tonight'. They shook hands. 'Just tell me what you need me to do, I am the new manager but tonight I'm here to learn how you do things here.' Sam nodded. Word, he thought, I like the sound of that. 'I was just grabbing what he need for tonight. You want to check the bread?' Eric nodded and went to work. He moved quickly, and he seemed to be on the ball. He lacked the dead eyed shuffle most some that they hired had. Eric went to work and in a few minutes they had everything they needed for the line. 'Hey just a quick question.' Eric asked as he walked back out unto the line. 'Do you burn? Smoke weed?' 'Yes.' Sam replied quickly. How the hell is this happening? He thought. 'We should burn later, you know after the shift?' 'Definitely.'

This is going way too good Sam thought as he flipped a burger. Something has to give. He still didn't have his license, but since biking to work he had lost almost 20 pounds and had even managed to stop drinking quite as much as before. And to add to all of that work had also improved. They seemed to be recognizing him more, he seemed to be getting more hours. Something has to give eventually, he thought, something has to go wrong. There is no way I can be allowed to have this much progress in such a short period of time, it has to be impossible. He put the order in the window, even tonight. They had managed to get through the first rush smoothly, and even later when it had been hectic they had done good. It was like they spoke the same language, understood the same code, knew each others rhythims. Around 10:45 after the last rush had ended, they had sat outside the back door for a smoke when Eric asked him, 'I think I'm gonna go for a beer, do you want one?' 'Sure.' Sam had replied and reached into his pocket for his wallet. 'No, don't worry about it, you can get me for the next one.' 'Sure.' He said.

No way this can last, Sam thought. He looked at his cellphone, it was almost quarter to 12 and Eric was still out there, somewhere. He hadn't had an order since 11:30 he was just curious if he was coming back. What could have happened. Something was bound to go awry somewhere he was sure of it. He would get hit by a car riding his bike home from work, or something would happen. There simply was no way this kind of relative prosperity could last. He walked outside the window to check on the menus, there was no one in the dining area. 'I'm going to step outside for a bit.' He said to the waitress, and walked outside. As he walked out the back he saw Eric with the six of tall boys he had asked for. 'For the end of the shift right?' Eric said as he handed him the six. 'Yup. Sam said. We speak the same language.

Put on big hat and walk away.

'Do you think I could pay you next friday? Mike asked as Sam handed him the bag. 'Yeah, sure.' Sam replied. Wondering why Mike couldn't have informed him of this minor detail earlier. It's true, it was only fifty bucks, and obviously him being some kind of a big time drug dealer, this wouldn't be much of an issue. I mean it was only a week, and I'll get paid next Friday. In fact it was a blessing in disguise because now I have this great future money I can work with, I mean it's not like I need this money for anything, like food and gas and good the services that money can provide for. It's not like I have to compensate the individual who if funding this whole operation and needs to get his cut, or that anything matter but you getting what you want from me. Of course Mike hadn't mentioned this marginal detail earlier when he had called him a half hour before he was about to leave for work and told him he was looking for an 'eigth'. Which he had, of course, said out loud, without the use of any code words, or any secrecy as he usually did. A little while before he had called him at 7 in the morning as he was about to finish a shift on the overnight if he knew where he could get an 'ounce?'

For fucks sake, Sam had thought. You're Italian for fuck's sake. Don't you know about wiretaps? And being careful about what you say on the phone? Also you're calling me at seven in the morning asking if someone could get an ounce of weed? What the fuck. Sam had played it cool on the phone. Telling him he would talk about it the next time we saw him at work. But when that time came Sam had gone off, Why would you talk about that shit over the phone? Why were you calling me that early anyway? and Mike had backed off, saying he didn't know it was such a big deal, and that he was trying to help him out anyway. Then it had turned out that Mike's friend didn't even end up wanting the damn thing anyway rendering the whole conversation moot. All and all he was started to learn that dealing with not all that it was cracked up to be. First of all it always seemed like no one had money and everyone wanted something fronted, advanced. Then if you fronted it to them you ended up having to pay most of it back to the person who fronted it to you, things seemed skewed.

Mike had been acting strange after  Alex had been in the accident. He was in a state of limbo. It had been three weeks since the incident and F.R. Rogers had not sent anyone in to replace him. A power vacuum had emerged with the workers finally in control. And Mike had always been the scab, the informant, the first person to run to Alex if he thought anything was amiss. Anyone was going against the rules. Yet he was the first to request weekend days off every weekend, when he knew it was going to be busy, every week. Now his power had been swept from him and he seemed to be in a daze, another world. They had managed to govern themselves fairly well during this period, prep had gotten done, they had adhered their same schedules as before and things had run fine. Perhaps better than before when some macho jackass had been in control. Our commander should be chosen from among the ranks like in the Nights Watch, Sam thought, not by some unknown corporate overlord, after all we are the ones who are going to have to work with the person day to day. Still, there was no way they were going to let it continue this way.

Not that he hadn't ever thought about weed at seven in the morning but come on? Calling someone then, not thinking that maybe they might have other things to do like sleeping, or working? It was inconsiderate at best and addiction at worst. And Sam could see that Mike clearly was addicted to weed. He liked smoking weed as much as anyone else but he knew a fellow addict when he saw one. The nature of the addiction didn't matter, he could tell. The compulsiveness of the way someone did something, the urgency. He was addicted to alcohol and he knew that kind of world ending feeling one could have when it seemed like they wouldn't be able to get their drug. 'Do you want to pack a bowl?' Mike asked Sam. Sam looked up, abruptly realizing Mike was talking to him. Really? I just fronted you 50 dollars worth of weed and you also want me to smoke you up, fuck you. Sam nodded and got his pipe out of his backpack, he handed it to Mike. Mike took the pipe, 'I thought you had..' 'Nope.' Sam said completing his sentence. 'Ok I guess I can pack some.' You sure can, jackass, Sam thought. People are strange, Sam thought as Mike packed the bowl. Mike took a hit and passed it to him.  He took a hit, pondering the whole situation. Might as well take advantage of the situation for now he thought, this power vacuum won't last for much longer.  'So next Friday right? Sam asked finally. 'Yeah, next Friday.' Sam said as he passed the bowl over. 'You know, it doesn't matter to me but, we all get paid on the same day, wouldn't it make more sense just to get the bud when you have the cash and not have to keep paying me every other week?' Mike paused for a second, 'Yeah, maybe.' 'Just a thought.'  Mike got up, 'We better get back in.' 'Ill be in in a little bit.' Sam replied. Let him squirm out there for a while.

This ain't no party, this ain't no disco, this ain't no fooling around.

Dave awoke to the smell of smoke and flames. It was hard to tell how long he had been out, what had happened, how  he had ended up this way. He could vaguely recall waking up in the morning, drinking most of a pint of vodka, making breakfast, and doing something else but this? What had happened. The airbag had deployed and he could see the car he had hit in front of him, severely damaged and it looked like the driver blood or something coming from his head. Fuck, Dave thought, then it all came back to him. His plan, everything in the past few months that had driven him to this moment. The company, his job, Alex, their plan to replace him. His plan to take care of Alex. He looked over to the center console, saw that the bottle of whiskey was still intact, took a swig. That sweet burn, he thought. He opened the glove box, pulled out the .38 just one thing to do... He grabbed the the bottle as he emerged from the car. He examined the other car, blue, it looked like Alex's car, in fact as he looked at it more he was sure it was his car, he had seen it a few times when they had all come up to visit.

Through some kind of fate, he had had hit Alex's car, taken care of his problem. The problem was now he would be knee deep in his own kind of problems, manslaughter charges, most likely jail time, Dave knew he wouldn't last in jail. Dave looked at Alex's car, at the stupid face he made at him from the windshield, most likely dead, at least I took someone with me, Dave thought. He could see now that a crowd of customers had gathered to watch the spectacle, to see what had happened. Might as well give them something to gawk at, Dave thought, as he put the .38 to his temple, pulled the trigger and fired.

Headquarters

Seth Rogers was at least 15 minutes late and feeling the pressure. In a few minutes he was supposed to be giving a presentation on how things were going for the business, what were their plans for the next 5 years and how would they improve their business model. It was all a bit difficult to fathom considering what had happened the past two days over at the diner. Alex, the manager, had been in a head on collision with the district manager, Dave, who had come, it seemed, to kill Alex and had soon afterward shot himself in head in front of everyone in the diner. He was still coming to terms himself with everything that had happened. He saw the sign for his exit, 5 miles. The day of the accident Dave had sent a series of long rambling emails to him detailing how he felt he had been screwed by the company over the years, and about how he intended to replace him with Alex, which had never entered his mind. According to his co-workers Dave had been acting strange for the past month, showing up late, around midday, and staying well after everyone had gone, in his office doing who knows what.

Almost there, he thought as he passed the F.R. Rogers Sign on the building. As it turned out, Alex had been stealing time, a whole lot of it, it turned out. They had looked over his timecard and the footage from the cameras in the diner to estimate that Alex had only been working only 5 hour days while he was on the clock for 10-12 hour days. None of it made the company looks good, least of all Seth who was next in line to take over from Frank Sr. That place is a black hole, Seth thought as he pulled into the parking lot. Everyone knew it. We keep pouring money into it, with the same results. Maybe we need to take more control. Put someone we know in there, someone who can get things done, maybe make some kind of profit. They had made money from it in the past, especially the late 90's early 2000's, when there had been line's out the door during the summer. Seth saw his spot in the front marked, 'Reserved for Seth Rogers.' Seth pulled in feeling somewhat relived that he was finally here, and the task was in front of him. It really wasn't as much of a big deal as he made it out to be, he was starting to learn. Stress could lead to health problems, he had learned, and then when you became stressed out about being stressed that could lead to more problem, so where did it end?

Seth got out of the car feeling slightly better, he looked at his watch, 8 minutes late, but it was ok he was Frank's son, they couldn't fire him, they would even tolerate his lame excuses and whatever bizzare rational  he used in the meeting to explain the state of the company, and the diner. He was used to it in some ways, since he was young, he had always been viewed as a successor, the one who was going to take over. He had gotten away from the family business for a few years when he had gone away to college, even taken a few jobs on the outside, but still it had called him back. Part of it was a sense of family loyalty, he still had some of it, he supposed. That was part of it certainly. Also there was a bit of complacency, of the security of knowing it was highly unlikely that he would ever get fired, or fucked with, because of his last name. Of knowing he had a job for life. Seth walked through the front doors feeling slightly more sure of himself, of what he was going to say. After Frank, after the disaster that had been Alex, they needed someone they could trust, someone they knew. Someone who didn't know what they were getting into and wouldn't object, he knew just the person..


Did I cause this somehow? Sam thought as he took a swig of his beer. Did my thoughts somehow cause Alex do get into that accident and die? Did I somehow cause the universe, by some cosmic trick of fate, to cause those two people to be driving at the same time and crash into each other? One, Dave, who was Alex's immediate supervisor?  No, it was impossible. Sure he had prayed, even to gods he didn't believe in, for a crash every time he heard Alex was going somewhere to get something. For a Semi-tractor trailer to roll over in front of him, for a log maybe from one of those trucks hauling massive logs to fall off and and hit his car as he was driving, maybe for a falling rock from one of those roads with those 'Falling rock' signs to just fall on his car as he was driving and crush it. But what of it? He had wished similar fate on other people before, mainly those individuals getting multiple lottery tickets in front of him at the liquor store. The ones who got five scratch tickets and then got 2 'quick picks.' 'You're not going to fucking win!' He wanted to scream, and often wished them to burn in a lake of fire. Of course that was always in the heat of the moment not really targeted to directly at the person. The way you tell the person going too slow in front of you or just being a jackass to 'Burn in hell.' Nothing personal

But it had been different with Alex. Alex had made it personal. He had questioned his skills, his work ethic, his ability to cook on the line. Someone who had never been able to competently cook and work a shift, who sat in the back on the computer, questioning him. Telling him how do his job. With Alex it had been personal and every prayer he had made had been totally heartfelt, and now that his prayers had been answered he could only feel relief. His only sense of dread was who was going to replace Alex, who would they bring in? Someone worse, Sam felt sure, someone far worse. Someone who would make Alex look like a pro. When Gerry was in charge he was sure there was no way they could get anyone worse, then they got Alex. I don't want to see who they get next. I've got to get another job before that happens. I should be able to, I'm qualified, competent, I show up to work on time. Nothing to it.  Still, it was easy to talk about thing like that when you had a job, when nothing was at stake. It was harder to deal with when you had nothing, unemployed, looking for anything. When any job would suffice, not matter what the pay. He had been there before and he had to desire to go back. I need an exit strategy and I need one fast. Something. I need a lot of things, a woman, a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning.

In a whip, with no breaks and I'm hittin' the gas.

1990

Frank put an order of fries on a turkey club and put the plate in the window. 'Order up!' He said loudly half joking. The waitress Jackie would frequently leave food sitting in the window for five sometimes even fifteen minutes. Of course while she did this she would also proceed to put in 6 more orders, while the 5 or 6 orders he had put in the window got colder and colder. This would, in turn, lead to customers sending their food back because it was cold. Thus, Frank sometimes found it necessary to inform her, to get her attention the moment it was in the window. We need a fucking bell or something, Frank thought to himself as he looked out the window unto the dining area. They'd probably ignore that too. She saw it this time and took the order promptly. Thank god, Frank thought to himself. Seems like it just about that time for a coffee/cigarette break. He peeked his head through the kitchen door and looked around, empty. It was a little past two and the lunch rush had died down for the most part. He made his out the back door into the warm spring air. A couple milkcrates outside the back door served as a chair and the unofficial break area, for all three shifts. Frank lit up. He had heard that third shift liked to hang out a little further back in the lot, where, the word was, they liked to smoke joints, and maybe a little more as well. He hadn't thought much about it when he had heard it, he didn't give a shit, personally, as long as things got done.

Frank felt good as he felt the warm spring sun hit his face, he felt well. Like thing were, just possibly starting to go in a positive direction. He had gotten married, had two kids, and had worked his way up from dishwasher, to lead line cook, to assistant manager. And each time he had gotten a raise, and a decent one at that. His boss Bob seemed to really like him, and the company had been good to him. He still had plans to go back to school, pursue a career, maybe an M.B.A., but the way he figured, he still had time. He was only 28, with a lot of life in front of him. Plenty of time. He took one last pull of his smoke and put it out. As he rose from the milk carton he saw Bob emerge from the back door. He was a thickset man, with a gravelly voice and a mustache, 'Frank, I need to talk to you in my office.' He said gravely. 'Alright.' Frank replied, 'I was just coming back in.' He walked back and followed Bob into the back office. It was a wood paneled affair with a computer in the corner and the timeclock with the timecard's hanging on the far wall.

'Have a seat Frank.' Bob said to him as he entered. A stack of papers and invoices lay on the desk near the computer. 'Well, basically Frank we need to talk about some issues.' Franks heart sank for a second but he kept listening. 'Basically Frank, you've been doing great work around here, and I want you as our new manager.' Frank sat in stunned silence for a moment. 'Really?' 'Absolutely. I've finally gotten the promotion from the company I've been waiting for to district manager, and when they asked me to name someone as my replacement I couldn't think of anyone else but you.' 'That's great!' Frank said finally. 'So you'll take it?' Bob asked. 'Absolutely.' 'It's a lot of responsibility being manager, lot of meetings down at headquarters, lot of pressure. But if you can handle it its not bad. You'll be on salary, paid vacations, sick time. You've got nowhere to go but up now. Welcome aboard.' He shook Franks hand. Yeah, Frank thought, nowhere to go but up.

It was in small writing, pencil, it looked like, in the corner of the shed. Sam had never noticed it before but it looked like it had been there for a decent amount of time, perhaps a few months. 'F.E.R. started 2/15/1982' then someone had added the date of the fire as when he had left. He hadn't noticed it mainly because it was on the side of the shed he usually didn't sit on, also to be perfectly frank with himself, he was usually drunk or stoned when he was in the shed, or in the process of becoming so. Still when he saw it, it only raised more questions. Who wrote it? Frank himself? That was the most obvious explanation as he was the only one who would know the exact date he started. But who wrote when he left? Frank? But why? Why had Frank spent a whole thirty plus years of his life at the diner? And why had he chosen to document it?

 Sam sat still in the shed pondering his situation. .His evaluation with Alex had been two weeks earlier, and now Mike wanted to talk to him. Mike had started out as a morning cook, usually eight to four, but since Alex had taken over he had moved to more nights. Someone to 'Keep tabs on us', as if we were all incompetent children who didn't know what we were doing, Sam thought. They always liked to say things like that, that second shift didn't do anything, didn't prep enough, were always getting stoned. Which was true on one level, but it didn't prevent them from getting things done. Zach had only been to work 3 times since he had had his confrontation with Alex, and since then Alex had posted a note on the board saying that Alex was 'Stepping down from his position as assistant manager, but will remain with us to help the new employees handle the transition.' Alex had since hired two people, a woman and a man, and had created new guidelines, news rules. Zach hadn't showed up the two days after he had left early, and Sam had only seen him twice since then. Once to work a shift training one of the new people, and the last time to pick up his check.

Sam saw a figure moving toward the shed and slowly realized it was Mike,which was not to be unexpected. Mike always came out after he had been out there a certain amount of time, usually over five minutes. Sometimes, rarely, it was to tell him there was an order, other times it was just simply to 'See how he was doing.' Mike had always had a strange attitude on breaks to Sam, one shift after he had been on the line for 4 hours and Mike had been prepping in the back and he had asked Mike to cover him in the line and Mike had replied,'I haven't had a break all day.' Take a fucking break, Sam had wanted to reply, he had been back there the whole time. Mike walked in casually 'What's going on?' He said as he answered. 'Not much, taking a break.' Sam replied. He's testing me, Sam thought. To get a reaction. 'I heard you got your evaluation. How was it?' 'Fine.' Sam replied. He's goading me, trying to get something. To report back to the boss, to see how the people are faring. 'How is it in there?' Sam asked. 'A couple tables just sat down, but that's about it.' Sam nodded and said nothing. Obviously he has some other motive for coming out here, Sam thought as they sat there. 'Were going to start having these kitchen meetings at the beginning of each month to talk about issues, ways we can improve who we are doing things here, to just get a feel on things that we can improve on.' Sam nodded, 'Yeah, sounds good.' Mike nodded. Sam hadn't said much to him once he realized Mike was simply relaying it all back to Alex, so they stood in silence for a little while.  'So you had your evaluation the other day, how did that go?' Mike asked finally. 'It was fine, not much really.' Sam replied.

Mike knew it was a lie, but he betrayed no emotion. Not going to give you shit, Sam thought, not going to give you the satisfaction. Last week, he had said something to Mike about Alex badmouthing Frank, his predecessor, all the time. A couple days ago, Alex had said something to Sam about it. Mike was up to something, was plotting for some kind of control of what was in reality a really shitty empire. Sam got up, 'Better get back in there, might be orders.' 'Alright.' Mike said finally. Sam got up and walked out, a breeze catching him as he walked outside. He heard Mike mention something about Alex coming back later to drop of something he had forgotten, but of course he had been vague about when. If I'm going to hit the store better go soon, he thought as he walked back inside, definitely getting drunk tonight.

All of this insane behavior is going to take it's toll soon. The thought came to Dave  unbidden, a random piece of clarity amid the madness that had dominated his thinking. He heard it, but it was small, distant, and unable to penetrate the thick haze of alcohol, painkillers, and other prescription medication that now dominated most of his thoughts. It was almost as if he could see what he was doing, but was unable to stop it. Only a couple of exits now, and it all ends. He had called out sick for 3 of his five days last week, and had only come in a couple days the last. They were talking, he could tell, all of them. About him, when he came in they tended to ignore his gaze, speaking in hushed tones about his 'problem.' At least that's what it seemed like they were doing, judging. His co-workers, people who not long before shared jokes with him, acted like his friend, now treating like a pariah, like dirt, nothing to them. He switched into the passing lane, going around the truck in front of him, he looked at the spedometer, 95, just one more now. Maybe I'll get pulled over, the distant rational voice chimed in again, and his whole crazy plan will fall through. Not that it would be too much better, D.U.I., probably a charge for the handgun he had in the glove box.

Dave took a swig from the bottle he had in the center console. Fucking Alex, his stupid smug face. All of them, the bosses. Bunch of incompetent, overpaid, hacks. Friday, the last day he had been in the office, Seth had told him he needed to talk to him in a meeting on Monday morning, probably about Alex's promotion, or maybe something worse. He had, of course done the most logical thing in his mind, he hadn't come in. Since then he had simply ignored his calls, which seemed to work, for the time being. Not that it would matter soon, since all of that was about to change. '24 hour diner, next exit.' The sign read. Dave took another swig of the bourbon, making the turn off the highway, it took him a while to slow down and his tires screeched on the pavement. Is it left or right? Dave thought to himself in his haze. He had only been there 3 or 4 times, then he noticed the lights from the sign, right. He peeled out quickly not looking if another car was coming, you're going to fast, the little rational voice told him now, the turn is coming up. He ignored it again going faster 70, 80, until he saw the turn, he made it without looking, and it wasn't until he felt the impact and heard the glass shatter that he realized he'd gone straight into another car. Fuck, the thought came to him vaguely as he saw the airbags deploy, could tell that this wasn't something minor, I'm fucked.

Sam wiped down the counter near the microwave, the same spot he had been wiping for the same half hour. It was a little past ten thirty, and Alex was still there. He had arrived around 8, dropped off whatever they needed, and then he had lingered. First he had gone on the computer after that, presumably to do some kind of order, maybe something they needed, but when Sam had walked through the office briefly he could see he was only checking his personal email. Ok, so that makes sense, maybe he wants to check up on some things, but he had stayed. And stayed. He had asked Mike, the other cook who was working with him, to stick around for a little, 'Don't leave me alone with him,' had been his exact words, and Mike had agreed. Then when 10 had rolled around Mike had told Alex that it was slow and that he may as well take off, so he had. Now he was out by the front counter talking with the same customer he had been talking with for a half hour. He's fucking with me, with us. Lindsay was the only waitress out front, and they were the two who had always had the most problems with him. Its some kind of psychological thing, he's fucking with us. 90 percent of what Alex did seemed to be some kind of fucking with them.

Sam looked out the window on the dining area, Lindsay was wiping down tables. He knew she couldn't stand Alex as much as he could so he thought of a solution. He walked out into the dining area feeling bold, walking up to her he asked, 'Want to go outside, real quick?' 'Yeah, definitely.' She replied, it was empty save for an old grizzled trucker who was talking to Alex.  She went over and told Alex quickly she was stepping outside and he said ok. He had been acting strangely nice the whole time he had been there, something was wrong. Sam led the way as they walked out the side door, feeling a draft of wind as they exited. Lindsay let a cigarette as she walked outside, 'Want one?' she asked. 'Sure.' He replied. He usually didn't smoke, but sometimes he did when they were all outside. She handed him one from her pack, 'When the fuck is he going to leave?' Sam asked as he took it. 'I know, right?' Lindsay replied. 'He makes me really uncomfortable.' 'Yeah.' They sat for a little bit, as the wind picked up. Say something to her, a voice said to him as he looked at her. Ask her out, do something. Nothing came to mind. He looked inside the Diner, Alex was no longer at the front counter, the trucker sat there alone.

'I think he's leaving.' Sam said finally. 'Thank god.' Lindsay replied. Yup, going to smoke a quick bowl in the shed soon, just have to wait. He always waited at least ten minutes, when he could get a visual and actually see that he was leaving that he attempted anything. Had to confirm before it was safe. He heard Alex car before he saw it coming around the diner, he saw him wave. He also saw him pull out a little too quickly, not noticing the car going the other way much faster. He heard the crash before the saw it, then the flames, the sound of crushing metal. 

He took long chances, but he took them because he had to.

Dave hurtled down the freeway, going 80, then 85, passing cars. He settled into the right lane and took a long swig from his beer. Soon, he thought to himself, soon I'm going to do it. He had become something of a pariah at the office, people acknowledging him silently, mostly a nod. Sometimes nothing at all. His boss Seth hadn't said anything to him yet, but he always hadn't said much of anything at all. It was the silence that was killing him, the not knowing. Being ostracized. Lately he hadn't much bothered to hide his state when he came into the office, bags under his eyes, eyes red. No one would openly say anything but he could tell they knew. They had heard the rumors, how his wife had left him, how he had lost his house. That he had retreated to the bottle, to soothe it all. They didn't say anything directly to him, of course but he could hear their conversations by the water coolers, and in the halls. It was all they ever did, talk, he thought. About people in the office, that mainly. They didn't have anything interesting to say on their own so they just talked about people around them.

Dave saw his exit coming up and put on his blinker. I can't believe I haven't seen a single cop since I left. He had moved further North closer to the diner, slightly farther away from the office. Just luck perhaps, he thought and took another sip of his beer. He got off the exit and pulled onto the main road. His apartment was right on the main street. He hadn't touched his .38 much since he got it a couple years ago. It sat in a shoebox in his closet. Had had shot it a few times, learned how to load it, all the basic safety. He had got it after he had been held up leaving a concert late one night. Paranoia had gripped him after that and for a while he became obsessed with weaponry. All kinds of weaponry, guns, swords, knives, machetes, crossbows, everything. Even things like baseball bats, pipes, he became obsessed with having as much weaponry as possible around the house. He pulled into his driveway, soon, I'm going to do it. To walk in, casually and shoot him in the head. So simple. Just need a few more drinks.

Jeanie felt a chill in the breeze as she walked outside, cigarette in her mouth. It was the last day of April and tomorrow the first of May, according to the note Alex had put up, the smoking ban went in effect. For all employee's of F.R. Roger's it said. Today was the last day, 'Smoke 'em if you got 'em,' as the saying went, and she intended to smoke every last one. 'Ill stay out here all fucking day if I have too.' She thought to herself as she lit up and walked into the shed. A few old newspapers lay on the various racks as she walked in, the old stale smell of must and smoke greeting her. 'It's just company policy.' Alex had informed her, wearing the smug shit eating grin he always seemed to wear. She looked at her watch, it was half past noon and he had been gone for over an hour, or that's what it felt like. Jeanie never took much notice, not that he ever said much about where he was going anyway, usually she would be doing dishes for a few minutes walk outside and his car would be gone. Alex was sneaky like that, always leaving, coming back, 'Popping in.' As he liked to say. 'You never know when I might pop in!' He liked to say. How about actually doing something once in a while? She thought. For someone with a whole lot of ideas about who is and isn't working none of his own logic seemed to apply to him. Most of the time, when he was even there, he was either on the computer, or out on the floor usually attempting to flirt with one of the younger waitresses.

Bleh, the thought made Jeanie almost throw up in her mouth. He was so creepy, so sleazy, so obviously leering and watching. She could see how he looked at their asses and tits, how he talked to them attempting to sound cool, confident. There was a rumor that he had gotten fired from his previous job for circulating lewd pictures of a young girl there, and that his wife had left him once for cheating, but had gone back to him for some reason. When they were hiring this guy did they just look for the sleaziest, creepiest, asshole they could find? She thought as she peered out the door of the shed. Judy's truck and he car were the only vehicles visible, Jim was by himself out on the line. She took another drag, it was like that more and more, only one person on the schedule, having them do more work for less money, it seemed. Then a few weeks ago, when she was getting gas at the little station across from the diner, she had heard from Maryanne the day clerk, that F.R. Rogers had set a pay cap. 12 something an hour. No raises after that. Fucking assholes, she thought to herself. Maryanne had hit that cap and now they wanted her to do twice the work for the same amount of money.

She saw Jim emerge from the back door a cig in his mouth. Must not be too bad in there, Jeanie thought as she saw him walk toward the shed. Jim timed his breaks carefully, waiting until it was all clear. He could cook all the orders they put in fine, he just got pissed. Swore, sometimes threw tantrums. To be fair Jackie and Judy tended to put in their fair share of mistakes, only to inform Jim later that something was wrong. 'What's cooking.' Jim said as he walked in. 'Not much.' Jeanie replied. 'Nothing in there.' Jim nodded, 'Cleared out. Only a couple tables now.' Jeanie nodded. She put out the cigarette that she was smoking and pulled another out of her pack. 'Is this your last week?' She asked him. 'Yeah.' Jim replied. He had informed Alex the previous week that he was retiring. The wage cap had play a large role in his decision as well as how things had gone since Alex had taken over. Plus the stress, the headaches, he was past 60 he didn't need it. 'You going to miss the place?' Jeanie asked grinning. 'Nope.' Jim replied. She looked at her watch, a little past two thirty, almost there. Go back in, do a couple loads, get the fuck out of here. She thought to herself. She put the butt out. 'Want to get some drinks after tonight?' She asked him. 'Absolutely.' Jim replied.

















A car crash. It was possible, Sam thought as he looked out the window unto the deserted dining area. I mean there are thousands of car crashes every day, he wasn't sure exactly how far in the thousands it was, maybe twenty maybe one hundred. He didn't think it was a hundred because if it was that high he felt like maybe more would be done to prevent it. Still it was pretty high. Enough that there was a decent chance that Alex might be involved in one. He traveled the highway pretty frequently, to go down to this or that 'warehouse' to get something that they had run out of. To get some kind of product. Sam often wondered if maybe the whole thing was one big scam, that he already had the product and wasn't actually going anywhere but home to take a nap, maybe drinking or using some kind of drug. Still whenever he heard that Alex was going somewhere to get something, going on some kind of long drive, he prayed for a crash. Prayed to gods that he didn't even believe in, he hadn't been raised in a religious background, but to the god of fate. Of long chances. To just give him this one win. Maybe not even instant death but put in one of those vegetative states where the family has to give the final authorization to pull that plug. From what Sam had heard it wouldn't take his wife long to come up with a decision.

Its possible. Of course its possible. Had had been sitting on front of the cutting board for the past hour, staring into space. He didn't feel like doing anything, he didn't have the motivation to do anything. He he had a meeting with Alex the week before, where Alex had informed him of his 'issues', problems they had had with his job performance. His 'Presentation,' was off, and he had gotten by in previous years simply by the fact that he had 'Shown up.' But that that wasn't good enough. He knew enough from talking to the waitstaff that everything Alex had said was bullshit. He had worked overnight shift with John Sr. who was the biggest stickler for quality and he had never said a thing. He had worked with other servers and asked them and they said the same thing, it was never a problem. He knows I don't like him, that's why. He's looking for an excuse to get rid of me. So he prayed every night, for something. Some kind of random act of god. To rid him of his nemesis. To make him clean.


 

Escalation

'It's all yours.' Jim said to Zach as he walked off the line. It had been a long day, according to Jim, filled with lots of orders and little breaks, and how they had run out of almost everything. French fries, white bread, home fries, and a couple of other things. Should be a good night, Zach thought sarcastically as he walked out onto the line. It was already past four, and as far as he could tell, no one else was working. It had happened to him plenty of times before, coming in, and having the morning shift leave with no one else there. He could do it without too much difficulty, there was always a little frustration, but nothing like this. Everything was out, burgers, fries, bacon, eggs, gravy, most of the things needed to keep everything running. Not that he knew any of this as he went in, he had learned in during the first two hours, he was now on his third hour of cooking with no one in sight. He hadn't been totally swamped, but it had been steady, consistent. The whole time Zach had wondered where Alex had been, Lindsay, the waitress had told him that she had heard that he had been in earlier, but had left around 2.

 Zach took the omelette off the grill and threw some homefries on it. He had finished the rest of the tickets, and he was on the last one. I'm taking a fucking break, he thought as he put the order in the window, if it fucking kills me. This fucking guy, he talks about how I need to step up as management, and he's not even fucking here? Zach thought as he looked out the window. He walked out the door of the kitchen onto the dining floor, all the tables had their food. Everything was in order, 'I'm going outside,' He told Lindsay as he walked back through the kitchen. If no ones going to give me a break, I'm going to give myself one, he thought to himself as he walked outside. He walked to his car and lit the joint he had in a case in his pocket, taking a puff as he stepped inside. He might show up at any minute, to 'check in', as he said. To make sure 'everything was ok.' in his words. It wasn't just the fact that today was fucked that bothered him. That Kevin wasn't coming in and no one had bothered to tell him, or that they were out of everything. It was the general apathy, the feeling that seemed to prevail among everyone there that that was simply 'How it was,' and that nothing was ever really going to change. The fact that Alex, the manager, his boss, the person who was supposed to be training him as assistant manager, was barely there, and still managed to talk about him and his shift as if they weren't doing anything.

Zach took another puff and leaned back in his chair. He didn't want to come back but he knew he had too. Had to endure the next five hours or so, to make it through somehow. He put out the joint and stepped out of his car. As he walked back toward the back door he noticed Alex's car parked in the back, shit he thought. He's come back, the old Pop-in, Zach thought. It was going to be difficult not to say anything to him, about how he felt. How things had been going since he had taken over, how it now seemed like everyone was talking about each other, trying to gain favor. Zach lit a cigarette, to mask the smell as he walked in. He's probably already got some kind of criticism ready, it seemed to be the only thing he actually ever did. Obviously he's not ordering anything when he's on that fucking computer all day, Zach thought bitterly. He was slightly stoned from the joint, but Alex's presence was putting a damper on it. He always felt like just walking in decreased a person high by at least 50 percent for the atmosphere alone. It was quiet as he walked in for the most part, he could hear the sound of hushed voices. As he walked onto the line he saw Alex, taking down a ticket with an apron on. 'Why was Lindsay out here cooking when I came in?' He asked Zach as he walked on the line.

'I had been here for 3 hours without a break, she was trying to give me one.' Zach replied, sounding more hostile then he intended. 'I need her out there, not in here cooking for you.' Alex replied. 'I'm sorry, I just didn't realize I was going to be working alone out here tonight. Oh, maybe if we had someone who was in charge of scheduling people, and making sure we had coverage for each shift, we wouldn't have this kind of problem. Oh, right! We do, he's just never here!' Zach couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth but he couldn't stop them once they came on. 'Excuse me?' Alex said, looking vexed, his face red. 'You heard me, if we had someone who would do their job, and stop blaming people beneath him maybe we wouldn't have this problem. If we had a manager who would actually order what we need, who would help us on the line and help us prep and keep things in order, as a kitchen manager is supposed to do, maybe I wouldn't have to sneak a break just for a chance for a breath of fresh air and a smoke. Maybe if we had someone who knew what is was like to work a 8 to 12 hour shift without a break they would have some prospective on this kind of thing and wouldn't put their employee's in that kind of position.'

Alex froze, confused. He wasn't used to being talked to that way, Zach could tell. Zach wasn't used to saying things in that way. For a second they both froze, Zach ensure of what his next move should be, Alex not sure exactly what just happened. 'You sound upset.' Alex said finally. 'Maybe you should take the rest of the night off.' 'I would, but if I left their wouldn't be anyone else here who knows how to cook. Except Lindsay and you don't want her to be back here.' Alex looked pissed for a second, then thoughtful. 'Alright, I'll call Sam.' He said finally and walked back into the office. Zach heard the buzzing from the printer and watched as an order popped up, two pancakes with sausage links. Nice, easy stuff, a nice distraction. I'm going to need to find another job.

There are advantages to a life of celibacy, Sam thought to himself as he took a long draw of his 40. No risk of STD's, no unwanted pregnancies, don't have to worry about having any kids. Simplicity, nothing wrong with that, don't have to deal with another persons wants and needs. Just straight up freedom, to do whatever one wished, hell maybe he could sell all of his worldly possessions and just roam the earth, getting into adventures. That could happen, maybe, if he were someone else. Someone who had more completely embraced their impulsive urges, who didn't calculate the risks. The consequences the vast array of things that could happen as a result of one decision. Lincoln could have stayed in that night and not gone to Ford's theater. Kennedy could maybe have postponed going to Texas that one time and maybe things would have been different. Sam could have chosen to not to to the bar in town that one night and not gotten that D.U.I. He sometimes imagined there was an alternate universe somewhere, where he hadn't gotten that D.U.I. where he had gone home, fine and dandy, and had enjoyed a nice long sleep in his own bed.

Sometimes he woke up thinking that that everything was all it was before, that he still had the van, that Andrea hadn't broken up with him, that everything was running as it was before. He always had this shattered when he woke up and looked outside, saw the absence of a vehicle in the driveway, and it all came back. He took a long swig of his 40 and took a look at the time on the computer, 7:30, almost time to go to bed. He was feeling the the effects as he was on his second 40 as well as a vicodin or two. Yup almost time. His phone lit up suddenly, buzzing, a text. From Alex, 'Any chance you could come in for a few hours tonight?' He read it before opening it, pondering. He wasn't in any kind of condition to do much of anything, left alone cook in a potentially busy kitchen, but on the other hand he could  knew he cold use the extra money. Most of the time he could come in, but now he was mostly done. Still, he was kind of bored sitting there. I'll need to get a ride, he thought to himself. He wouldn't want to risk riding the bike in the state he was in, he'd probably get hit. He picked up his phone and replied, 'Sure. I need to get a ride. Be there in a half hour.'

There was a thick fog in the air as Sam neared the diner. It hung on the ground, so thick in places, that Diane, his landlady had to go extra slow as a precaution. He looked at the clock in her car, 8:30 later then he had hoped. There was no cars parked in front, and the place looked mostly deserted as they had pulled in, so it looked like it wouldn't be too bad. He saw Zach sitting in the shed smoking a cigarette as Diane pulled in. 'Thanks, Diane.' He said as he got out. The fog still hung in the air and it had cooled he noticed. You can do this, he said to himself as he walked to the shed. Far crazier thing have happened. He had smoked a couple of bowls and drank a couple glasses of water at home so bring him down somewhat. It has succeeded somewhat, but the vicodin's had kicked in and now everything seemed  a haze. 'Hey, Zach.' Sam said as he walked into the shed. 'What's going on?' Zach replied. 'Not much. I was just hanging at home when Alex texted me to come in.' Sam replied. Zach had a faraway look in his eyes, 'I had a fight with Alex. Kevin called in and no one told me, and I took a break when it was slow and had Lindsay cover me and Alex came in. He asked he why she was out there cooking and I lost it. I told him off.' 'Told him off?' Sam asked. 'Everything, everything we've been talking about. The schedule, how things are run, how we always run out of things.' Sam was silent for a moment. 'Well, shit.' He said finally. Zach got up, 'I stood up to him, he's not going to forget that. Anyway I'm out, got an interview for a new job tomorrow. Zach walked outside, into the dense fog. Fuck, that sucks, Sam thought.

Headquarters

'That will be 12.50.' The woman at the checkout said to Dave. He looked at her with a blank expression, before finally realizing that she was, in fact, attempting to complete a transaction, he handed her a twenty. She smiled and handed him his change, a 100 dollar bill. 'This isn't right.' Dave started to say, but she put her hands to his lips, 'Shhhh...' She said, putting another couple of hundreds in his pocket. Yess Dave thought, as she jumped over the counter and attached herself to his hip. 'Let's get away from all this forever,' Dave said to her as they walked out the door to the parking lot. Everything was fine until they walked outside, and the sun, seemed bigger and bigger...

Dave awoke to find himself face down on his keyboard drooling. What the fuck? How long had he been this way? Minutes?Hours? Had anyone seen him? How did he even get here? He vaguely remembered waking up at some horribly early hour, and remembering that work was something he was still expected to show up for, and getting up and showering. Putting on a suit, obviously, because he had one one now. And somehow making it out the door. There were even flashes of somehow getting into a car and navigating heavy interstate traffic to make it here, still he could not recall coming into his office, nor how he wound up unconscious for an undetermined period of time. He looked around, everything was how it was usually, he had opened the blinds of his window, and sunlight filled the room. He looked at the clock on his computer, 11:00AM, ok not too bad. Had anyone seen him in such a state? He imagined not as they would probably be in his office now, coaxing him to consciousness. The sun filled his office and he could vaguely see the traffic from the window in his office, non-stop.

Dave's email was open as well as several other windows, he had started work fine, got in, somehow, managed to convince his co-workers that it was just another day. That he was perfectly capable of making it through, another day. That he did not in fact, ponder being of author of his own demise from day to it. That everything in his life wasn't falling apart, unraveling, so quickly. It seemed like only last week he was getting promoted from manager of one of F.R. Rogers Gas Stations to district manager. It had all seemed like a dream then and it felt as if it was all crashing down to quickly now. His wife had left him, the divorce had been quick, she had taken the house also, so now he had been reduced to living in a tiny one bedroom that  seemed to quickly overflow with bottle, so many bottles, and pizza boxes, chinese food containers, the refuse of a depressed single man. 'You have an addictive personality.' That was how one of his most recent therapists had put it. 'With drug seeking behaviors..' As if there was a secret committee in his brain that was actively conspiring to procure him drugs.

It was all going south so quickly like a shitty 'Behind the music' episode, except this was his real life. I need to straighten out, he thought and opened his desk and brought out the bottle of adderall. As he brought it out he noticed an email, amid the many he had opened, that he hadn't checked yet. It was titled 'rearrangements.' It was sent to all the bosses and to Alex and Dave and a few others, it read: 'Hi, Team, I've been thinking about a few rearrangements in regard to our leadership. Clearly the gas station on broad street really need our attention, my thought was to have Dave take over there and have Alex take over his position, I know he's only been here for a little bit but I feel he's shown the kind of force and drive we need...' Dave had stopped reading when he read the words 'Alex,' and 'Taking over his position.' Never mind the fact that since the eight years he had been promoted no one had offered his a raise, let alone a promotion. He looked at the header again, that he hadn't even considered that he was sending a mass email to the same person he was demoting. That in addition to being insulting they didn't even have the common courtesy to have tact. Dave thought of responding, of posting something long and dramatic. Nah, instead I'll do something better, much simpler, I'll just kill him.

Don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows

Jeanie walked outside and lit a cigarette, it was her third today. She had gotten in at 7:40 and had smoked a couple before coming in. She had come in earlier just to see what the situation was, how bad was it, if maybe she needed to punch in early just to make sure she wasn't totally fucked. Sometimes it was like that, there would be a rush at around 6 in the morning, and by the time she got there all the buspans were full, and they would need her to come in early. She would anyway, just to avoid the frustration. Coming in with everything full, all the cooks yelling at her for plates, it was better to just get it going first thing. Throw in a couple loads of plates and get on top of everything, before she could go outside and enjoy a smoke. It had been her tradition for the past 3 years, finish all the dishes that were out there, then go outside and have a smoke, or two, or three. As she saw it, as long as she got done what needed to be done, and all the dishes were clear, and everything was straight out there, who cares if she took a few extra smoke breaks a day?

After all, she busted ass in there for a long time before they even gave her a raise, or switched her to morning hours. She had started doing 4-12, or 4-11, whatever they had her on. It would always depend on whatever Gary wanted. Sometimes she would be there until 9 or 10 or whenever they told her to leave early, then sometimes she would be there until 1 or 2 in the morning if things were going bad, it all depended. Finally she had had enough, and told Frank, her old manager, that she wanted to switch over to first shift or else she was going to quit. It had been that easy, Frank was like that. He liked her, they needed a dependable dishwasher who showed up on time everyday and got everything done, so he had accepted. Then, after the fire when Frank disappeared, everything had changed. Slowly. First Gary had been in charge which hadn't been too bad, but then they had hired Alex. Jeannie hadn't gotten along with from the get go. He didn't like how much time she spent in the shed, seemed to not like the fact that anyone was taking any breaks at all, despite the fact that he hardly did anything while he was there.

Jeannie peaked her head outside, she saw Jim walk out. He had a cigarette in his mouth as he walked outside his breath visible in the cold air. Jim made his way inside and sat down. 'How is it in there?' Jeanie asked him as he sat down. 'Not bad. Steady.' Jim said, picking up the newspaper and taking a look. They sat in silence for a moment. 'Oh yeah,' Jim said finally. 'We might not be able to come out here at all soon.' 'What do you mean?' Jeanie asked. 'New company policy, no smoking on company property, it said. Goes into effect the end of this month.' Jeanie took another drag of her smoke. 'Ill smoke out on the side of the road if I have to. He's not stopping me from smoking.' Jim nodded. Jeanie felt like he did that alot. Force of habit maybe. 'This is all about me.' She said finally. She knew it was true. From the moment they had first locked eyes they hadn't like each other. She knew, from day one this one is going to be my rival. My nemesis, the one who is going to oppose me. Alex had never liked her breaks, how she went outside whenever she pleased, and still was able to get everything done.

Jim got up, putting out his smoke. 'I'll see you in there.' Jeanie said to him as he walked out. He's definitely fucking with me, trying to provoke a  reaction. This isn't the only place out there to work, she had plenty of work experience. The pay certainly wasn't keeping here there, sometimes early in the week before her check came she often wondered if he would have enough gas to make it in. I don't give a fuck, she thought, I'm still smoking, I'll smoke out on the street if I have too. Fuck him.

Sam awoke with a strong sense of shame. Of regret. Of having done something to soil his reputation and dishonor his house. Something had gone wrong last night, terribly wrong. He rose slowly realizing he was, in fact, on the ground near his bed. The room was strewn with evidence of the previous night's mayhem. I called her, he thought, Andrea, I called her and we talked. Of course 'talked,' was a relative term. He couldn't recall weather the conversation was normal, pleasant and cordial, which he doubted it was, or weather it had been hostile, aggressive, and nasty, as what seemed the most likely truth. He got up slowly and walked up to his computer, there was a large can of beer next to it on the desk. He picked it up, it was half full, nice, he thought, and took a long swig. He felt the warmth as the beer entered his belly, ready to rock, he thought. Might as well keeping going, I have the next 2 days off anyway. Not that I have anything productive to do anyway, like look for a job or anything like that.

In his mind, as he was having the conversation, he had been perfectly fine, even articulate. But as he started to recreate it in his mind, what he could recall, there was a lot of screaming, shouting, possibly some sobbing. Sam picked up the can, it was a little less than half full, and took a long draw from it finishing it off. Well going to have to take a ride to the store-he looked outside, oh yeah. It's gone. The van, his license, any chance of going anywhere for a long while. He still forgot sometimes, would ponder excursions to places which not too long ago didn't seem too far, and it would all come back. Of course if he did have his license back he knew he probably would drive drunk again, the inevitably get caught again, possibly under worse circumstances. So maybe it was a good thing, hell at least I get some exercise. The screen on his computer was black, he hit the space bar. His facebook was upon, there it was. A long conversation, mainly on his side, asking her why she had broken up with him. How devastated he was, how she had 'ruined', his life, on and on. What the fuck? This he didn't remember. Though it didn't surprise him, he was feeling like a conversational drunk that night, he told her how he was like a failed state, a rogue nation, filled with turmoil and ruled by a corrupt, ineffectual leader. When that had done nothing to sway her he asked her how she could just throw him how like so much garbage, was any of there time together worth anything?

Sam had also asked her about Kevin, was she still going out with him, when she said yes, how could she go out with such a loser. It had finally ended with her saying he should probably get 'help', and to not call her again. He had tried to reply, but she had blocked him. It's alright, I don't need to talk to her. But he already feared it would happen again. I need to purge her number from my brain somehow, he thought to himself getting up. Hmm.... purging, doing something to forget, nothing a few tall boys can't solve. He put on his shoes and went out his side door, grabbing his backpack as he went out. . He got on his bike and rode down his hill, I could go to the one across the bridge, he thought to himself, but I feel like that guy gives me weird looks whenever I go in there. Besides it was always better in his mind to diversify the stores he went to in case he wanted to go back later in the day. I'll go to the one in town he thought as he reached the end of his road and started pedaling up the hill. This one always made him breath a little harder. It's just an excuse to drink, he told himself as he made his way up the hill. Andrea, the break-up, even though he was genuinely upset, he knew deep down, that he was just using it as an excuse to drink even more. An alibi, a crutch.

Sam felt the sun on his face as he made his way into town, he felt good, almost. Kevin, fuck, I still have to work with the guy. Kevin was an very non-confrontational person, so it was unlikely he would saying anything to him about it, let alone challenge him to a fight. It would just lead to incredibly awkward shifts at work. He made was way up to intersection in the center of town and across the street to the liquor store. As he pulled his bike up to the front, it dawned on him, this is where she works. Fuck. It was how they had first met. Well Ill be damned if I'm going to pedal my way all the back down there. Just go in quick, a surgical operation, in and out, he knew exactly what he wanted. He heard the bell ring as he entered, the clerk was in the back, he noticed as he walked in. Maybe its her day off. He kept his head down and went to cooler grabbing the six pack of tall boys, as he came up to the counter he saw it was her. Shit. He grabbed the 3 nips he wanted from the plastic racks on the side of the counter. 'Will that be all?' She said finally. 'Yeah.' He replied. She said a total, something under 10 dollars and he gave her a bill. She gave him the change and he quickly put the beer in his bag and the nips in his pocket.

Sam left the store fast, but he tried to be casual about it. That wasn't too bad, he thought to himself as he got on his bike and pedaled across the street. He went to a parking lot and pulled out one of the nips. At least she didn't seem to have much of a reaction to it. Of course he knew he was the one, in all reality who should feel strange. But he didn't, he felt like she should be apologizing to him..for creating the situation in the first place. He opened the nip and drank it down, after all, he thought, I've been coming to that store for a long then she's been working there, if anything she should be the one to leave. The felt the warmth from the whiskey as it went down, fuck. It was only 2PM on a Tuesday, and he still had two more days off. I'm going to come in friday looking like a hobo coming off a week-long bender. He didn't know why Alex had cut him down to four days. True two of those were 12 hour shifts, but it still seemed like something was off. It was the first time in a while that his days had been cut. He put his empty nip in his pocket and made his way back down the road to his house. Work, that was what he should really be worrying about, the true albatross hanging over him. But all he could think about was her.

Sam had gone back over to the woman's house who he had hooked up with at the bar a few months back recently. They had hung out for a little while, smoke a couple bowls, when he had tried to make a few moves she had explained that had been just the alcohol. That it was a good time and all, but that it was basically just a one time thing. She had two daughters that were close to his age, and some kind of complicated relationship with her ex-husband, but they could still hang out if that was ok? Ok, he said, that would be nice, and they had hung out a little longer. He asked her if she could spare him a couple pills as he left and she gave him a couple vicodin. 'Ill talk to you soon.' He said as he left. But they both knew that was a lie. Friends, who the hell wanted another friend?