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.
        

World's are colliding

He hasn't called or sent me in text in four days, Andrea thought. It was strange, she was glad in some ways, because before they had been non-stop, incessant. Still, the silence was strange, she wondered if something was up. He could be a psycho, she thought, a ticking bomb waiting to blow. Isn't that what they usually said about serial killers? When the interviewed the neighbors? That they all seemed to normal, happy, well balanced? She had always hoped to see, just once, a neighbor say the exact opposite an obvious anti-social asshole who was bound to snap. Someone whose contempt and hatred for humanity was clear the moment he stepped through the door. There had to be a few cases like that, ones that were just clear cut and obvious. It had to be denial though, in some ways. After all, who would like to think that the seemingly normal person they had been living next to for years in fact had a massive stash of children bodies underneath his backyard? So they would blind themselves to the truth.

He'll be fine, she thought absently. There are plenty of seemingly normal people walking around who are, in fact, psychos. The thought came into her head, unbidden. Those who tow the line for years, show up to work on time, get married, have families, who just snap one day. Lose it, go on a rampage. She had always found it interesting how sometimes beneath ordinary simple facades their could live complex worlds. The hitman who does a job and then comes home to his wife and kids like any other 9 to 5 shmuck. Andrea checked the time on her phone, almost 11. Kevin would be over soon, she picked up a bud and put it in her bong, it always helped when dealing with Kevin. He was nice enough to her, and he seemed like a good guy,
but he always seemed to have a story, some kind of long complex reason why he didn't have any money, or something like that. The fact he didn't have any money didn't even bother her, it was just the complex explanation, the lie, that he felt the need to concoct that irked her.

She heard her phone ring just as she was considering giving up this going out business altogether. 'Hey, you ready?' She heard Kevin say. 'Yeah, give me a minute.' She ran and grabbed her weed and her bowl, as she was walking outside she heard a text. She looked at it briefly as she walked outside, 'Hey.' It said. That's were you've been, she thought..

I need to fire that man, Sam thought as he sat in the shed, looking outside to see if anything had happened. That corrupt, ineffectual, ruler who is currently bringing my country to the brink of ruin. I need to give a vote of no-confidence, a special election, or if need be topple that fool in a military coup. It had been a quiet nice for the most part, except that his co-worker had left a little before ten, saying he was going 'out for a smoke,' and then never returning. Normally, at a normal establishment, he would be assured that this person would be fired, terminated as soon as news of what they had done was reported. But this was the diner, and it would likely be a long time before anything was done. Sam put another bud in his corncob pipe, as he lit it up he heard his phone ding, 'Want to hang later :)'? the message said. It was her, perhaps the silence had worked, the absence had made the heart grow fonder. Maybe, still, it couldn't last much longer, he would hold onto it as long as he could.

Maybe it still had a chance, maybe I could turn things around. It was all possible of course, he knew. Like waking up early in the morning, going to the gym, not drinking all the time, such things were possible, but it was unlikely they would occur with him. If only I could switch characters, like in video games, play as someone else for a while. Have their strengths for a small amount of time, like feeling ok in your own skin. Have confidence, be able to talk to girls, get things done, wake up early in morning, things like that. To change the paradigm, Sam thought. He took another toke of the pipe, looking outside. The wind cried in the distance. He was also looking for Alex, that sneaky fucker. He liked to do the 'pop-in,' to stop by at random hours, to 'See how we were doing,' to 'Check up on us.' God I hate that man, Sam thought as he looked out onto the back door of the diner. His van was the only car parked out back, the waitress who was working likely to park in the front. It's like he's trying to catch us or something, Sam thought. Or that he wants to.

Sam looked at his phone, it was quarter past 11, less than an hour. I think I might grab a drink on the town when I get out, he thought. The Afterworks being the most obvious spot. They had the cheapest drinks, with one dollar shots. How long have I been out here? Time seemed to melt away in the shed sometimes. Between being high, and spacing out it good have been 5 minutes or 20. He put the pipe back into his backpack and headed outside. Sam put the backpack in his van, as he headed back inside he noticed the car. Blue, it was Alex's. Be cool, Sam thought as he headed back in.

As he put his apron on and walked back to the line he saw Alex standing there, wearing an apron. A couple of frybasket's were dropped, and two burgers were on the grill. 'Where were you?' Alex ask him as he walked back. 'I was out on a break.' Sam replied, already annoyed. 'What happened to Fred?' 'He walked outside for a break and never came back.' 'There needs to be one person on the line, at all times.' 'Ok.' Sam said. It was only two orders, which were simple and they put them out quickly. Alex said nothing but went out to the floor to talk to Sara, the waitress. He walked back over with a drink and sat down on the counter, he's going to be here for a while, Sam could see, he's just settling in. He had a few nips in the walk in freezer, just have to remember them. He walked through the kitchen door and looked around, it was empty. Alex didn't seemed to notice him, focusing instead on the waitress, Sara. She was young, 19, cute, maybe that will keep him distracted. When it came down to it, Alex didn't really want to do more work then he had to. Sam walked to the line and to the back to the freezer. He took the nip of whiskey he had in the freezer and took it down in one gulp. It burned, all the way down, into his core. It seemed to warm the whole body up.

Sam put the remaining little bottles in his pocket and walked back out onto the line, still no tickets. Alex was in the same place. He looked through the window at the clock, only ten minutes left. 3rd shift would be here soon and that would be a whole other distraction, he could slide out of here easily. He took another quick look around, still empty. He had had some day's when he worked where he had only done 6 tickets the whole night. This place is on the decline, Sam thought to himself. This business with the bar, it could be trouble, the police do watch that place. The best strategy would be to constrain himself to only a few, to not 'go too crazy.' He thought. That's the rationale talking. It will do anything to get you to bend to its will, and he usually did. Well it's going to be midnight anyway, how many drinks could I possibly drink in such a short amount of time?   

Power is a curious thing.

Headquarters

Dave stared at the monitor wishing it was later. Wishing it was later, 5 or 6 sometime in the evening when it would be justifiable to leave, when it would look as if he had done something, had put in a full day of rewarding productive work. It had been a dozen years or more since that had been the case. 'Rewarding work, a paradox if there ever was one. He had sat there staring for the past two hours, staring at the monitor opening the browser just keeping it there, to keep up the illusion that he was doing actual work. Most of his day usually consisted of that, with some breaks to eat and go to the bathroom. He managed to get by, he knew mainly because his superiors trusted him, knew who he was. Probably didn't want to go through the hassle of having to hire a new district manager who would accept his salary. Although it would most likely be lower, Dave thought as he looked out the window. It was a clear day, not a cloud in the sky, and he wanted to just jump out the window. To disappear, to vanish. He often thought of it driving home, what would happen if he simply veered into the side of the road, or drove into oncoming traffic.

The email's were there, he knew they were there. He had been dreading opening his email from the moment he sat down at his desk. He had opened the browser, staring at the search bar for an hour. I've created a monster, Dave thought. At first he had though Alex would take most of the flak for his own fuck-up's but instead they honed in on him. Because he had vouched for Alex so fervently, he was also responsible, in their mind for everything he did. He opened his email finally, entering his password, fuck. 75 unread messages and the top 20 were from Steve Rogers, his boss. He opened the first one skimming the contents of it to get the basic gist of it. Apparently Steve and a few others from corporate had gone down to the diner for lunch a couple of weeks ago, and it had all gone bad. Bad service, bad food, and the bathrooms had been disgusting, according to them. They were blaming him, instead of Alex, saying he should have been on it.

Dave looked at the clock, it was a little past eleven. He knew he could always bring it all down on Alex say his job is in jeopardy, and then in turn Alex would likely place the blame on someone further down. I need something, he had gone through all of his Xanax's in the past four days and he knew his doctor was unlikely to prescribe him more. I could always crush my toe, get on some kind of painkiller. He had never used drugs before, he'd had a beer or two but hadn't ever done much more than that. He tried pot once, but it made him paranoid.  It wasn't until he started working for the company that the problems had started. Dave could see why Frank had gone down the path he had, succumbing to alcohol, possibly burning the place down. The company seemed to only acknowledge it's employee's when they had done something wrong and never when they had done anything good. Steve want's to write some emails, Dave thought, I can write some of my own. Shit flows downhill, he would blame Alex, Alex would blame someone down the line and it would become their problem. He looked at the time on his computer, only six more hours to go.

Dave opened his email clicking on 'compose', the hardest button to hit. It was hard because it meant action, it meant he would have to do something. To create something out of nothing, that was hard. He had started many emails, but often had a hard time finishing them. A hard time actually telling his bosses what was actually on his mind, but now it came easily. Alex would do as he was told, that was why he hired him.

'I spent 300 dollars and I hired a private investigator. Found out some things about his past.' Gary spoke as a haze of cigarette smoke hung around his head, the smell of mildew and the perpetual must that seemed to hang about the shed. I wonder how much weed has been smoked in here? Sam thought as Gary smoke. How many drugs have been done in here? What horrible acts of debauchery have gone on in his place. Gary seemed a bit more optimistic than usual, as if hope for him had been partially restored somehow. Apparently Alex had something of a shady past, although Gary was vague as usual. 'Maybe you can get something on him?' Sam offered hoping to prolong the conversation. It was somewhere between 11:30 and midnight and Sam knew one of the easiest ways to knock out that half-hour was to have a cigarette with Gary, which could range from 15 minutes to a half-hour. Just get him talking, there had been no orders out there, so they had gone outside for a little bit.

'I know he's stealing time, Punching in at 8 in the morning and clocking out around 9.' Gary remarked. Sam nodded. It was an open secret among most of the staff. Alex would clock in around eight, sometimes earlier , would work for an hour or so, and then clock out later. 'If I can just get someone to record it, we can get him.' 'Yup.' Sam said, as Gary continued. It seemed to him all something of a show, a farce. Of course Gary wasn't going to cede control easily, but it was obvious who was going to win this. The company had hired Alex, who was doing all he could to fuck with Gary, and the person the company hired was obviously going to come out on top. He thought about saying something, but he knew it was in vain. Conversations with Gary were always one sided, as if you were talking to a sililoquy in a play. It was always about him, it didn't matter if you had just mentioned something else, he would steer the conversation back to him.

Sam checked his phone, it was ten minutes to 12, 'Maybe we should check if there's any orders.' Sam offered. 'Yeah, probably.' Gary said and put out his cigarette. It was in an old bowl labeled, 'butts' magic marker. Sam walked outside first, feeling a blast of cold air. The familiar diner smell greeted him as he walked in, fries, hamburger grease, it was only as he walked through the office that he noticed it, a note. It hadn't been there before. He was here, Sam thought as he skimmed the contents of it. It was the usual list of grievances, plus something about a few of the big shots from corporate coming here, and the bathroom being disgusting. Gary had walked past the note when he first came in, before he noticed it. 'We got a love letter I see?' He remarked.  'Yeah.' Sam replied. On some levels it was good to know Gary was likely to be gone soon, on the other hand, who knew about the new boss?