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?

He had been at his post since the days of King Aerys

2007

Gary took a look around the parking lot as he lit his cigarette. It was filled with trucks but about half as full as it would be later in the year. The air was quiet. It had been busy earlier, and Gary had had to help the cook out on the line for a few minutes. He hadn't minded, he had years of cooking experience, he knew how to handle himself on the line, It had just bothered him that he had to go out there even though they had two cooks on that night. The other cook, Jake, had been outside, something like that. When Gary had asked Ben, the cook who was there, where Jake was, he said he was, 'On break.' Something like that. Gary had been out in the dining area talking to a customer when he had noticed Jake going outside. Gary and Ben had busted it out, still, it had been 10 long slips, Jake should have been out there. Whatever, Gary thought, as he took a drag of his cigarette, he never complained, no matter how much everyone else seemed to.

It seemed like everything he heard, from the moment he stepped in the door, was complaints. The first was from Frank, the manager, over all the things the guy's on his shift didn't do at night. And of course, if he came in in the morning he got an earful about what the overnight shift hadn't done their jobs the previous night, and how they should all be fired. Which led him to wonder sometimes, who exactly, would fill in for them after he had gotten rid of them, since exactly no one wanted the hours. The hours, it seemed like everyone wanted them but not one seemed to want to do any actual work. Gary felt that breeze against his shirt, it was nice to be outside, and to have no one talking to him. To not have to deal with any grievances, or requests, or complaints, to have only the stillness of an early summer night, the cool breeze. Peace. He saw the flashing lights of the police cruiser before he saw where it was going, toward the back of the parking lot, behind the shed. Ben, Fuck, he thought.

Ben put the last order in the window and felt a surge of relief. He had done it, he had gotten through most of his shift and now it was time to get high. Not a little high, with a mild grin on the face, and a few chuckles, he intended to go full blown catatonics, grinning Cheshire cat high. He had earned it. He had been working for the past 8 days straight without a day off, sometimes 12 hours a day because someone had called out, and now he was finally done. He had the next two days off, and it felt like bliss. Like heaven. He felt like God who had toiled for those 6 days to be rewarded with that 7th day of rest. In fact better than God because he had done eight days. And by god, he needed the rest. Ben walked out the door of the kitchen in the dining area, no menus. Everything is done, thank god. 'I'm going outside,' He told Lindsay, the Waitress, she nodded. She knew what that meant, they all knew what it meant. It meant the cook was going outside to get relief, to do something. To smoke a cigarette, to snort a line of blow, shoot some heroin, smoke a bowl, get a cup of coffee, something that would make the last few minutes of his shift bearable. To make him whole again. They all seemed to accept this, this unwritten understanding, and that, in the 5 to 20 minutes the cook was out there, hopefully whatever they were doing they would return all the better for it.

In this regard, Ben intended to excel. He looked at this phone, 11:40, just enough time. He was on until 12 at which point someone would come in to relieve him. Just enough time. Ben walked into the back through the prep area, he had a fat bowl of kind bud waiting for him, this is going to be nice. He felt the warm air greet him as he walked outside, thank god, Ben thought as he got inside his car. He took out his lighter and took a hit of his bowl, he took a long draw, watching the smoke as he exhaled. He watched it drift through the car and then took another hit, the smoke whirling around him. The part where you get off, the best part of the shift. When all of the toil and the bullshit and the hard part was over. It had been a somewhat smooth shift except when Gary had come on the line and tried to help him. It wasn't even busy, he had 3 slips and had everything on the grill and in the fryers and Gary had come out and started stuff he thought would help him. Dropping fries, asking him about things he already had going, finally he had told him as politely as he could that he was all set.

Gary had fucked off, eventually, and he had gotten through the rest of the day without incident. He had told the waitress, Sarah, that he was going out for a smoke. She knew what he really meant, they all did. They all had a concept of what was going on, at such an ungodly hour. He took another hit, slowly exhaled and watched as the interior of the car filled with smoke. The blue lights came into his rear view slowly, and it was only after the car was bearing down on him that he really noticed them. Ben froze and watched as the car parked behind his and a large imposing figure in a Police outfit stepped out and walked towards his car. Ok, this sucks, he thought, but still it couldn't be that bad. He had never been in trouble before in his life, had no record or anything. It might be slightly unpleasant, but most likely not too horrible. He heard the tap on his window, he rolled it down. He saw the cop emerge from a waft of smoke as it burst from the car. 'Sir, have you been doing any drugs this evening?' The cop asked, casually. As if he he were asking about his veteran status. 'No,' Been said calmly. It seemed the best play. 'I'm going to have to ask you to exit the vehicle.' He said. He was about go get up when he noticed a figure come into focus in his rear view mirror, I took him a second but he realized it was Gary. It wasn't so much that the fact it was him, it was more how he strolled up to the scene. As if he were greeting someone in his backyard, without a care in the world. He saw Gary and the officer exchange a few words, then Gary took him aside and they exchanged a few more words, and the officer came back. 'You're free to go, young man. Thank your boss.'

Ben felt relief as the cop pulled away. Gary had come through, talked the cop out of arresting him, out of anything. Finally Gary had been talking to the cop for so long that Ben could tell the cop just wanted to get out of there, and finally he left. They stood outside the backdoor, smoking cigarettes. 'Sorry about that man, I didn't think there was anyone around.' Gary took a drag of his cigarette. 'I don't mind if you smoke, just not out there, in the lot. There are cops out there all the time at night. Next time just got in the shed.' Ben nodded. 'But won't Frank and first shift complain?' He asked. 'They'll be ok.' Which was Gary's way of saying that they would complain but nothing much would come of it.

Sam dropped a bag of homefries, and then dropped another couple orders of fries, the sound of the sizzle filling his ears. I love that sound, he thought. Of meat touching the grill, onions frying, the changing the property of something by applying heat to it, he loved it. Now though, he felt anything but love. It was all that he could muster to keep himself on that line, to not walk out. It had been a week or so since Alex had taken him and Zach into the office one at a time, to talk about 'What happened Friday.' He had heard that there were ticket times of a half hour or more, of people complaining. When he had explained that they had run out of grill space, and fryer space, he said simply that he, 'Wasn't interested in excuses.' It was then that Sam had realized he wasn't someone who was reasonable. Or qualified, or who knew what he was doing. In the 5 months Alex had been there he had been on the line for all of 5 minutes, and even then he didn't know what to do.

Sam folded the omelette, flipped it over. He picked up the homefries from the fryers and put them in a hat then unto the omelette.  He threw some cheese on the burger and then picked up the other fryer. This asshole, who hasn't been on the line, is telling me how to cook. Of course it had gotten worse. Sam had thought it was over, but just as he was leaving the office Alex had had the last word. 'Also, the only thing that should be smoked in the shed is tobacco.' Before closing the door. Sam put the order in the window. Is this guy just dead set on taking away everything good about working here? Not to mention the fact, the Mike, his right hand man, spent a good portion of his shift in there. Smoking something ever then tobacco. Every shift. Of course he hadn't said anything. He couldn't. Anyone says anything and the whole thing collapses, and he would be damned if he was going to let that happen. The shed was the one thing that kept him coming in, day after day, without calling out, for 2 years.  There wasn't much else the job had to offer, long hours, low pay, many times with little or no breaks. He had done quite a few without. He walked out of the door, and looked around the floor. As usual the customers, a few of the customers looked at him, which always made him uneasy.

Everyone had their food, there were no open menu's. 'I'm going outside.' Sam said to the waitress Lindsay. She nodded. They all know what goes on. He walked out the side door, toward the shed. Andrea had called him or tried to call him in over three weeks. He had tried to call her a few times, left a couple messages, with no response. It's over, a voice told him, it was a truth. A harsh truth. She had done with other women had done before, she had turned on him. One day you're laughing together, having sex, getting stoned, the next she won't even acknowledge you're existence. Like it never happened, like they had never had any kind of relations with you, as if it been deleted  from the official record, like a redacted CIA document. He walked into the shed. It's all going to shit he thought as he walked in, the shed, his relationship, it was all going downhill so fast. Zach was still technically the assistant manager, so he had that going for him. As long as he's there we have someone one our side, it was starting to feel like that. Him and everyone else at the diner against Alex, an interesting match. They had numbers on their side of course, but Alex had the company's blessing, he likely wasn't going away anytime soon.

Sam walked inside the shed, the smell of old cigarettes greeting him. A few old newspapers lay on the two egg crates that served as a table, he sat down on a table in the corner and took his tin out of his pocket. He extracted the joint and lit it up, taking a long puff. How long can an massively unpopular ruler impose his will on the masses, he thought to himself as he smoked. A long time, potentially, and even if he could be gotten rid of it would be a long battle, with many casualties. He pondered this as he exhaled watching the smoke fill the air, we've worked too hard to have him take it all away now, he thought. I think I'll call her when I get out to tonight, see what shes been up to...

And theres no stopping us right now.

Sam had a headache. A thick one, one borne of many beers and several whiskey's.

I just space out.

Headquarters

'The loneliest moment in someones life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.'-F. Scott Fitzgerald The Great Gatsby

Dave looked out onto the highway from the window of his office. So many cars, trucks, SUV's, going along about their various missions. Some going to work, others with different purposes, some drunk, some transporting large amounts of narcotics. He wondered sometimes how much drugs were being transported at a given time on the interstate, how many people were drunk. It had to be a decent amount, considering how many cars were on the road on a given time. And who really knows how good a driver these people are? What kind of real training goes into getting a license? He often supposed it was only sheer luck that allowed him to make the half hour commute to work everyday. It seemed so often that something would happen, when large tractor trailer trucks were bearing down on him as he approached the exit to F.R. Rogers headquarters, also when he was behind large trucks carrying logs or cars, or other large cargo. Sometimes he wished for it, to just weave in between the lanes and crash. It would be so easy too, much easier then continuing this vile existence much longer. Each time he came to work he felt soiled, each time he left even more so. He had 12 different stores in his district, gas stations, car washes, and one diner, and the one he got shit about the most was the diner. How the fuck am I supposed to oversee all of these other things, and keep and eye on the diner. Alex was supposed to do that. But they never blamed Alex. Never. Even though sales had gone down dramatically since he had become manager, even though labor costs had gone up, they had always blamed him. It was Dave's problem.

It was never Alex's fault. No matter how far down the sales went, no matter how much labor costs went up it was always Dave's fault. He had been the first one to vouch for the guy, so he was the first one to take the heat once he fucked up. It seemed unreal in some ways. He had hired Alex as a patsy, a scapegoat, someone who could be the one to answer if the diner fucked up, yet so far it had been the opposite, Alex fucked up, sales went down, yet he was the one to blame. It was as if Alex was some kind of Rasputin, who had could manipulate anyone into liking him, and who could do nothing wrong. It seemed to be that way, whenever something went wrong up there, it was his fault. Even though he had 10 different stores he was personally responsible for anything that went wrong at that one. It didn't matter that he had hired someone  to specifically be in charge of that one location, it always fell on him. He had brought him into the company so it was his responsibility, and apparently anything he fucked up was his responsibility too.

Dave looked at his watch, it was a little past 5:30, time for a little shot of energy, he thought as he opened on the top drawer of his desk. He had started the day taking Xanax, then a few OxyContin's in the middle of the afternoon, but when he was here this long it was usually only booze that could get him through the rest of the day. The granddaddy of drugs, the one that had been around the longest, the one that was guaranteed to work. The days had been long the past few weeks, months, maybe, he hadn't checked. He would come in at  9 every morning and on a good day he would maybe get out at 7, but 10 was usually more usual. The days and weeks seemed to blend into one, he was home sometimes, he knew. He had a house, that much was certain, and also a wife, although he seemed to see her less and less. He could vaguely remember the last time he had seen her, she had said something about 'Divorce,' and 'Irreconcilable differences,' and how she was moving in with her sister in Wisconsin.

Dave took out the nip of whiskey and poured it in the plastic water cup he had on his desk. He looked around, making sure no one was about to come in. They seemed, to trust him, the company, big mistake, Dave thought as he threw back the plastic cup. He made a face as he downed the liquor, he wasn't used to it. He had had a few beers back in college, but he had never been much of a drinker, not like this. Now he needed it, needed it to get through the last few hours at work, needed it to function as a normal member of society. Sometimes this made it hard when the time came to leave the office. It was only a 15 minute drive up the highway from his office to where he lived, but sometimes that 15 minutes could seem like an hour. It was after a few of those perilous journey's home that Dave had realized that he needed a back-up plan if he got too fucked up at work, a contingency plan if things went to awry. Obviously passing out at his desk was not an option, the old standby, lest his co-workers were to somehow walk in and see him passed out at his desk. The answer had come to him readily, as had the answer to much of his other problems as of late. Drugs. Adderall in particular. It picked him up enough from all the other stuff that he was able to make it home. To focus on the road. He had found a dealer for it, something he had never had before, and illegal dealer of anything.

Dave was going up to the Diner the next day for a meeting with his bosses. They had told Alex at first that they were coming in the morning but then they switched it up at the last minute. They liked to do things like that, like they wanted to catch something. They had told him that they had always came in the morning before so they felt like switching it up. Alex would be there, most likely. He pissed Dave off, mainly because he always seemed so calm, so untroubled, so much unlike someone who was working the hours they said he was working. So fucking smug, that same shit eating grin on his face, not a goddamn care in the world. Meanwhile I'm getting bombarded with emails about sales being down, everything that's going on down there. He opened his desk and pulled out the other nip of whiskey he had bought earlier. Alex wasn't even there most of the time, from what he had heard. They were all having dinner there tomorrow, all of the corporate big shots, and him. He didn't want to go but there was no getting around it, it was one of those mandatory things. He couldn't think of anything he wouldn't rather be doing than consuming food from that place. It was like walking into a medieval inn and ordering a meal, who knows? Back then knowledge of food safety was non-existent and from what he could tell when he stopped by, very little had changed since then at the diner. Plus it was out of his way, a complete waste of time, and preventing him from accomplishing several real, far more pertinent, tasks that he had on his agenda.

Dave reached into his desk and pulled out the second nip he had gotten. He poured it into his cup. 55-60 hours, that's what they thought Alex was doing. Week after week. When they had told Dave thought it had been hard for him to contain his laughter. A person couldn't do that many hours without it having some signs of showing on them, dark circles under their eyes, a few grey hairs, Alex had none of that. He always looked, calm, collected, happy. A real manager of a place like that would look far worse. Dave knew, because he had seen Frank, seen what those kind of hours could do to a person, for a long period of time. Dave had known Frank from the early days, when he was only lead cook, when he had seemed somewhat happy at least. Then he had seen the change in him slowly as he became manager, as the years dragged om, first 8 hours days, then 10, then 12-13, six days a week for 20 years. Sometimes he would even clock out early and continue doing paperwork into the afternoon. Dave had never understood that, from his perspective. But sometime he had speculated that maybe he just didn't want to deal with the bitching from his bosses about his overtime, that also if he didn't do it today he'd have to deal with it tomorrow, and it would be easier for everyone if he just did it today. Beaten down by the company.

Dave swallowed the whiskey in one gulp, I'm getting better, he thought as he pulled the bottle of pills out of his pocket. He took out a couple adderall's and stuffed them in his mouth chewing, took a sip from his coffee mug to wash them down. He would hit up the store for a pint of whiskey on the way home, he knew. He had already planned his route home, though back roads so he could partake of said whiskey and forget, maybe for only a few fleeting moments, how much he hated his job. Dave looked at this computer screen, well past eight. Fuck he thought, how have I been here this long. What if I was sick tomorrow morning? What if I eat something bad tonight? Maybe have some kind of 24 hour bug? Yeah, Dave thought, that might just work.

Jeanie looked through the door of the shed nervously, a cigarette burning in her hand, 'How long ago did he leave?' she asked Jim. Jim shrugged, 'Don't know, maybe an hour or so.' He took a drag of his own cigarette. 'He's up to something, I don't trust him.' She said finally.  Jim nodded. Jeanie tended to say the same things of whoever was in charge, how they 'Didn't know what they were doing,' or how they were 'Assholes,' but this time it was different. He was starting to go after how long she was outside on break, how many cigarettes she had, indeed, he was starting to dig deeper into what exactly went on in the shed. 'You know they're all coming at some point today right? All the big wigs from corporate? I heard lunch but their still not here.' 'Yeah, Alex told me about it earlier, but I think we're in the clear.' It was already a little past quarter to 3 and his shift ended at 4, so he felt safe. Not that he had been too worried to begin with, he had met with Dave, the district manager, and Seth Rogers the vice president several times before and they had been nice enough.

'So you think he's not coming back any time soon right?' Jeanie asked again. 'Yeah, probably not.' Jim replied. After Gary had been fired Alex had started changing everyone's hours, Jeanie's first and foremost. First he would put her 8-3:30, then a few 8-3's, today he had put her on 8-4, but she could already tell he wanted her out earlier. She had taken to simply gathering all of the dishes at a little after 3 doing what was left and then cleaning the station. 'I'll probably be getting out of here pretty soon. You guys going out later on?' Jeanie asked. 'Yeah, probably at the Hot-L. Nothing special really.' Jeanie nodded. Judy is going to get shitfaced, Jim is going to get solidly drunk, but just sober enough to be able to get them home in one piece. Jeanie knew already, after working with them for ten years and drinking together for the same time she knew a thing or two. Jim got back up and walked back in. Jeanie put out her cigarette, bad news for the night crew I guess, Jeanie thought as she got up to walk back in.

'So they're all coming tonight? Sam asked Zach. 'Yeah, that's what it sounded like.' Zach replied. He took a couple buds and loaded them into the bowl. Zach took a large hit and passed the bowl to Sam. It was a little past 5 and while there had been a little bit of a rush at 4 it had largely died down afterwards. Sam took a hit and passed the bowl back to Zach, the first hit bringing him a strong head rush. 'What about Alex, is he supposed to show up?' 'He didn't say anything to me about it, maybe.' Zach replied. Nice, Sam thought, no one knows anything. Zach had been assistant manger for several months now, but it seemed as though Alex didn't want to show him anything. Although he counted the drawer every night, and worked eight and half hours every day, Alex had shown him next to nothing.  No ordering, scheduling, or any of things the things an assistant manager would normally do. Zach passed the bowl back to Sam. Why the fuck do they do this? Come up in here? Are they trying to catch us in something? To make sure everything is running smoothly? Do they just want to fuck with us?

Sam passed the bowl back to Zach. 'I could stay until 12 if you wanted tonight,' He said. They had put him on 3-10, which was ok, but he needed the extra hours. He knew Zach didn't particularly enjoy working until 12:30 every night, and he could hardly blame him. He would have felt the same way if his social life hadn't gone to hell when Andrea had left him, and he had lost his license. As it was now, he needed all the money he could get. 'Do you think you could go to store for me, at some point? He asked Zach. 'Yeah, definitely.' Zach replied.

This is hell, Sam thought, as he looked at the wall of tickets in front of him. At least some version of it. In some kind of crude, evil reality, this was all day, everyday. A rush that never stops, a printer that never stops printing orders, until they grow so long as to form some kind of medieval tapestry telling an epic tale of brave deeds. It had started out small a few four tops and then a couple of 5's but after that they had all come in packs, 4 to 6, or more. They had had it under control for the first hour, but now they were reaching critical mass, they were starting to run out of grill space, Fryer space, counter space. He threw some cheese on a couple or burgers, and checked the liver on an order of liver and onions, everyone had been getting everything tonight; Spaghetti dinners, liver and onions, corn beef and hash, omelette's. It never seemed to stop. He picked up the liver and the onions, handed the plate to Zach who put the mash potatoes and gravy on the order. They started to plate the rest of the order, they still had eight tickets on the board, plus three in the printers. Still, Sam wasn't too worried about those. He had learned that from Jim. They had worked together on a Sunday shift where Sam was prepping, Jim would cook with Frank and sometimes they would have 10 slips hanging from the printer, but it would never phase Jim. He would just stand there calm and collected, while the slips accumulated, and do what he had on the board. Then move on to the next.

Almost in the clear, Sam thought as he put up a plate in the window. There were a couple four tops left, and a couple two's but otherwise they were in the clear. A long ticket popped up from the printer. 'That's their order.' Lindsay said from the window. It was a long one, with a lot of substitutions, changes and other add ons. This might get fucked up, the thought came into his mind unbidden. No, he told himself, just slow down, work on the tickets you're working on, don't freak out. They started plating the first two big tickets, then the next two, finally they got to the one from the guys from Corporate. He told Zach about all the modifications and they put it out in under ten minutes. After that the last few orders on the board had been easy. Soon afterwards, the board was clear entirely. Sam looked up at the clock, it was a quarter to ten. 'Want to run to the store for me real quick? He asked Zach. 'Yeah, sure.' Zach responded. they felt victorious.

'Long fucking night.' Sam said as he took a swig of his beer. They were all sitting in the shed, him, Zach, and a couple of Zach's friend's and their girlfriends. They had thrown down on a thirty rack of beer and had split it in the shed. At least I don't have to worry about drinking and driving anymore, Sam thought. True you could still get busted for riding a bike intoxicated, but it seemed unlikely. It had died down inside enough that they had been able to hang out outside for much of the last hour, without anything coming up. 'Its weird that Alex never showed up.' Sam remarked. 'Yeah,' Zach replied. They had been in a haze for the past hour. Sam peered outside and noticed Lindsay coming out the back door. 'Care to join us?' Sam asked her as she walked toward the shed. 'Hey Alex just called, he said he wants to talk to you both tomorrow about tonight.' 'Ok, did he say anything else?' Sam asked. 'No,' Lindsay replied. This can't be good, he thought.

Belief and seeing are both often wrong.

These distances are much longer then they seem when you're driving, Sam thought as he peddled up the hill to work. There was a cold wind in the air and the road was icy with potholes here and there. I chose the wrong time of the year to get a D.U.I. he thought bitterly. It had gone all as he thought it would after he got pulled over. He had given the cop his license and registration and then the cop had started asking questions like weather he had been drinking, or on drugs, and it had all gone downhill from there. They had done a breathalyzer, then brought him in, impounded the van. It was almost a blessing, he had thought in his drunken haze was he sat in the back of the cruiser. It was never going to pass inspection, it had that red 'r', maybe this was some kind of crazy blessing in disguise. He'd borrowed the money from his mom to get the van out, then he turned the van into a junkyard for 300 dollars. Might as well get something from it.

Sam went up to the stoplight that led to the diner. The sky was a ominous grey as he looked up. Everyone's going to be talking about it, that much was sure. Andrea had broken up with him when she found out he had in fact, been in jail, when he was supposed to go over and see her. In a way he thought it was something of a perfect excuse. How could he have known that he would have gotten pulled over? That at that exact time there would be someone waiting for him. Maybe there was an alternate version of the very same story playing out in some other timeline where he didn't get pulled over at all, where the whole thing was just fiction. He hadn't said much to her when she told him, and the impact of it hadn't really been felt on him as he was still dealing with the van and everything else. He could tell though, once it hit it wouldn't be pretty. He'd be sitting in the dark,at the computer, nursing a pint or some large vessel of alcohol, and it would all hit him. That she'd left him, that he was back to square one, the same lame, depressing, sexless place he'd been for so many years. Except this would be worse. He had never been much of a 'Look on the bright side.' kind of guy, he could see himself going off. Spiraling down into the unknown.


Sam swung his bike into the diner parking lot, feeling strange already.  Gary was gone, he had heard. This should be a good thing, he thought as he pulled in. He walked his bike toward the shed, as he approached he noticed Mike sitting there, 'Hey what's up man?' He said as he approached. 'Not much, just getting in.' Sam said bringing his bike around the back of the shed. Mike was trying to make conversation, it was obvious. Mike was part of the same class of weirdo's who would talk to you on the bus and try to ply out your life story, or the people on airplanes who would try to talk to you. Sam pulled his bike into the back, and walked it around back. He didn't think anyone would take it, and even if they did, he lived close enough that he could walk home. He looked at his phone, ten minutes to four. I guess ill talk to this guy, Sam thought as he walked into the shed. 'So Zach got that assistant manager job.' Mike said as he entered. 'Yup.' Sam replied. He put his backpack in the back. He had a pint of vodka in it, and he was hoping to transfer that pint to the walk-in freezer later on. Maybe at 9 or so, so that by the time he got out at midnight it would be nice and cold. Of course he would likely sneak in a few sips at quarter of, to make the ride back slightly more bearable.'I'm glad he got it though, he earned it.' Sam remarked, breaking the silence. Mike said nothing but his face betrayed his emotions. It was natural, he was Alex's man after all, they were thick as thieves. Sam wondered if maybe he had promoted Zach knowing that it would win him some loyalty for promoting someone who had been there for a while, and who everyone liked. It would also make it easier to blame someone when he fucked up, Sam could see his game.

Alex was cleaver, and he used it to make up for his lack of intelligence and lack of competence. 'Hey do you have any bud?' Mike asked, out of the blue. Mike was always very blunt about such things which Sam had found somewhat unnerving. Sure a certain casualness about recreational drug use, could be refreshing but Mike seemed to have no filter. 'I don't have any right now, I could probably get some.' Sam said casually. 'Alright,' Mike replied. Sam got up and walked through the back door, Mike has got to be some kind of a spy, like a jailhouse snitch. Or one of those low level crack dealers who get busted and then cut a deal with the P.D. to be allowed back into circulation if they rat on their bosses. Except this time the 'bosses' in question were his own co-workers, doesn't get lower then that, Sam thought as he walked inside.

The familiar scent of bacon, eggs, and general must greeted him as he walked inside. The prep area was surprisingly clean, and the back sink remarkably free of pots and pans. That's ok, I'm sure there will be a shit ton of prep to be done that they left us, he thought as he walked to the time clock and punched in his number. He saw Zach now on the line, there were only a couple of slips on the board, just an order of fries and a soup. 'How's it going, man?' Sam said as he walked unto the line. 'Pretty good.' Zach said. 'Not too much going on.' Sam went out the door into the dining area, no menus that he could see. He walked back into the kitchen, 'Hey do you have a peice?' he asked Zach. 'Yeah.' Zach replied. He had had weed, it was true, just not for Mike.

This is going to be an awkward situation, Zach thought as he took the bowl Sam passed him. He had told Kevin that he could him and Andrea when he got off, which coincidentally was midnight, and Sam was still here. As far as he could tell he hadn't reacted much to the breakup, hadn't said much about it beyond a few remarks. But if she was there, with Kevin, if it was in his face, who knew. Humans are unpredictable, they could be one way one minute, and another the next. It was hard to say with Sam. It was a little passed, 11:30 and he had been out here for how long? it was hard to say. Time always seemed relative in the shed. You could be out there for what seemed like a couple minutes and it would be only a half an hour, you could go out there and smoke a joint for what seemed like an eternity and it would only be five minutes. Zach took a long drag of his smoke, pondering his next move. He had been friends with Zach long before Sam had started working at the diner, and they had already made plans. He was in the right, Sam would be getting off, he would meet them, they would go to his place, everything would be fine.


Sam looked out the window on the kitchen door at the time, almost ten minutes to eleven. Perfect, he thought, and walked over to the freezer. He had hidden his pint of vodka behind the frozen beef liver, nudged in the back. He walked in now and took it out, taking a large gulp. Long fucking day, he thought. It had been long too, tedious. They had cooked the orders well, but the waitstaff had put several thing's in wrong causing them to have to remake several tickets mid-rush. Still they had done alright, managed to get everything out one time. Sam felt the familiar warmth spread to his belly as he took another swig of the vodka, only about 8 minutes left, he thought to himself. He found himself obsessed with time, everything about it. What time it was, how much time had passed, it had always fascinated him. How people in the first year of the 18th century would be amazed at how people in the first half of the 20th century lived, the different eras and ages. I'm going to see her at some point, the thought hit him strongly. She's going to go with Kevin, it was only the logical conclusion. Can I live with that? Can I be the bigger man? Unlikely. It just seemed to much like defeat to him, to let his enemy parade their victory in front of him.

Time to go back, Sam thought as he sat in the cold. There could be a few ticket's hanging in the printer, Sam thought as he emerged from the freezer. The printer was empty Sam could see as he walked unto the line, Zach was gone too, the line was empty. Weird, he thought. She was there, sitting at the closest stool, 'Hey,' he said. 'Hey.' She replied.

Drunkenness on the rise, morale at an all time low.

Zach had a strange feeling as he drove into the truckstop parking lot over to the diner. Something was definitely afoot, he thought. It was also good to come in expecting anything at the diner anyway. There was, he estimated at least a 50 percent chance something would be broke, someone would have called out, or something might be wrong. But this was different, this was something else. That instinct, the sixth sense that they said people had was strong, his 'spider sense', if you will, was tingling. He still had a slight hangover from the night before. It wasn't terrible as he had smoke a couple bowls before coming in, now driving up into the back, he thought he might feel the dreaded paranoia creeping in.

Zach pulled up near the back door, he could see Mike sitting out in the shed. As he got out he noticed that his was the only car parked there. Gary's not here, he thought. It was five minutes to four on a Friday, Gary was always there by then. Sure the guy was annoying sometimes, but damned if he didn't show up every day. Zach took a cigarette from his pack and walked toward the shed, 'Hey.' Mike said as he walked in, Zach nodded. He liked to have his time alone before work, and something about Mike had always seemed kind of off to him. The way he seemed to want to be everyone's buddy and go out to the shed all the time, yet he was at the same time always talking to Alex. Zach lit up his cigarette.

'I heard Sam got arrested in the center of town last night.' Mike said. 'Oh.' Zach replied. 'Who said that?' He asked casually. 'Jim and Judy. They saw him at the bar with you and Kevin and as they were driving home they saw him on the side of the road getting pulled over. Then Jackie heard from a cop she knew that he had gotten a D.U.I.' 'Shit, that sucks. Is he supposed to come in today?' Zach asked. 'Yeah, he said he'll be in at 5. You were with him was he totally hammered?' Mike replied. Who the fuck are you, the cops? Zach thought. 'I don't know he had a few beers, were all pretty buzzed.' 'You gotta be careful out there man.' Mike said finally. Zach looked at this phone, it was two minutes to 4, time to go, he thought. Zach put out his cigarette in the bowl that served as the ashtray and got up.

A gust of wind blew as he walked toward the back door, I think he's a fucking spy, Zach thought. He's definitely talking to Alex somehow, he thought as he walked inside. Though, it seemed strange, sense he was always outside constantly smoking weed with all of them. Still, that the genius of it. As he walked through the prep area he was greeted by the familiar diner scent, a mix a old grease, sweat, and despair. He walked up to the time clock and punched in his number. The board was clear of slips and he walked in, and Jeff one of the morning cooks, was slouched against the cutting board. 'Hey.' Jeff said as he walked out to the line. If have to hear about Sam's fucking D.U.I. again, Zach thought. 'One of our bosses got fired.' 'Which one?' Zach asked. 'Gary.' Jeff replied. 'What happened?' 'They were having an argument in the office, and Gary left. Later on Alex put up a note saying the Gary was no longer with us anymore.' 'Of course, a note.' Zach remarked. 'I heard they might offer you the job.' Jeff said. 'Yeah, maybe' 'Well you better speak up soon because Mike wants it bad.' 'Yeah.' Zach muttered. This was already far more conversation then he wanted to be having right now. After all he was still fairly stoned. Does everyone hear just talk about everyone else all the time? Zach thought as he walked out the kitchen to get coffee, he poured himself a cup, and a large cup of ice water. Don't they have anything better to do?

Ain't no time to hesitate at the gate. Do it now!

Just a few beers, a couple of drinks. Dangerous words for the people who spoke them. Who believed in his own fiction, the fiction which many sold to everyone, that it would be a short, brief drinking session which would not go to excess. And then there was the infamous 'One beer.' Just one beer, who could possibly begrudge someone one beer after a long days work. Had anyone in history ever actually drank just one beer? Ever stepped back after that first one and decided to call it quits? Had actually stayed good on their promise and left after the first one? Sam knew that there had to be someone, but it was few and far between. He wasn't sure why exactly he had lied to himself this time, had told himself that he would take it easy. Perhaps he had only thought of it as some people did, in terms of distances. Sure he might have a little too much, but he didn't have far to go. He lived nearby, and Andrea who he was going to see after he was done lived near town as well. It all within a 5 minutes distance, the logic went, so if he had a little more then he just it would all be fine. Still Sam had had more than a little bit more, indeed he had gone further then he had thought possible. But that was usually the case. Usually it would started with just a six pack and a couple of nips, then there would be that call for more, that deep monstrous urge which seemed to manifest itself the more he drank.

Sam remembered coming to the Afterworks. He even remembered the first draft of beer he'd had, cold steel rail from the tap. A few minutes after that he had seen Zach and Kevin from work, and they had had more shots and ended up smoking a joint outside. It's all led to this, Sam thought. It was two minutes to one, time to boogie, he thought. Sam got up slowly and made his way to the door, feeling a chill as he walked outside. Zach and Kevin had left a few minutes before and the streets felt desolate. The wind picked up as he walked over, the early explorers made it across the Atlantic under worse conditions then me, Sam thought as he walked to the van. Runaway slaves made their way north using the north star as their guide, surely I can navigate a minivan a few blocks. He had parked a few blocks away, so as not to be noticed by to local PD. To avoid any Imperial entanglements, as Obi Wan once said.

Sam saw his van, half covered in snow as he walked toward the darkened lot. It stood out like a beacon, to take me to freedom, he thought. Or deliver me into peril, he thought. It could go either way, he took out his key and unlocked it, stepping into the seat. He still locked it, even though there was nothing particular of value in it. In fact it had a rejection sticker, which made it even less attractive, still he locked it. It was pride maybe, he thought to himself, maybe instinct. It was always better, in his mind, to be sure. He got in, it was cold inside, but the alcohol made it feel warm. Less then a mile, he thought. I'll be fine, people had made it across the ocean in wooden boats, I can make it. He turned the key. After a slight hesitation it started and the radio came on, louder then he had remembered it being. Everything lit up, including the check engine light, as it always did. He didn't have enough money to fix it, and the van could never pass inspection without it. He pulled out his phone and texted Andrea, 'On my way.' He pulled out faster then he intended to and mad his out of the lot, the main street was deserted as he made his way down it. He could dimly make out the yellow lines in the middle of the road and he was following them as best as he could. Sam saw a car come into view quickly in his rearview mirror, then the lights. FUCK, he thought.

'You think he made it back ok?' Zach asked as he took the bowl from Kevin. 'Yeah he'll be ok.' Kevin remarked, seeming indifferent. He took a hit as someone passed it to him, pondering options. Andrea had cancelled on him at the last minute, and he wondered if all this had something to do with it. Something was going on. It was getting late past one, and he began to ponder options. Kevin had gone out with Zach and he was his way of getting back, but he wondered if maybe he didn't have to go home after all. He had a feeling she might be around later, somehow. It was worth checking out.

It was almost half past one and they had been at the Hot-L for an hour, they were the only one's there besides a couple people. 'I talked to Alex I think they want to promote me to assistant manager.' Zach mentioned. 'Which seemed strange to me because Gerry is still there.' 'Yeah.' Kevin nodded, indifferent. He seemed to be somewhere else most of the time. It's probably time to be getting on anyway. 'Hey do you think you could drop me off somewhere else on the way back?' Kevin asked. 'Yeah sure. Probably time to get back anyway. Just let me finish my beer.'

'Ok.' Kevin said. He dialed the number as he remembered it. 'Hi.' She said. 'You want to hang out?' He asked. 'Sure.' She replied.