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.