that poetry book i’m working on, albacore, is getting closer to completion. to celebrate i chugged a red bull, got baked, took a few shots of vodka, and wrote some prose. i wanted to get something influenced by kubrick or salinger. i wanted to test out a new writing style with a new kind of character. something involving mental disorders or whatever. i ended up getting a little too drunk and had to stop.
not sure if i’ll pick it back up. i’d like to but there’s a good bit i’ll need to rewrite before i do that. there’s some weird places i wanna take it, but for now i figured i’d post it here and get some sort of reaction.
tl;dr warning: don’t read it if you don’t like to read.
I had enough of this job, working 6 years at the same place: a pizza parlor. Called “Big Al’s Tasty Pizza Emporium”. We delivered, we had a sit-in dining area, we had a ball pit for the kiddies even! It was a great place, it really was. Lots of people liked coming here, heck, I even liked coming here! But I had enough of this job, this place, this pizza. Always smelling like pepperonis. I wanted to quit, but I didn’t know how, I was afraid for some reason. I’m generally a pretty nice guy, as I’m sure almost everybody would tell you. My sister’s friend Clarissa even had me babysit her dog once when she was out of town. He was a shih tzu named Wei Zhongxian. Clarissa was Chinese. Or, her parents were Chinese. Anyway, Wei Zhongxian, the man, not the dog, was a eunuch. Wei was also an emperor. I just found that out recently and thought I should share it with you.
Big Al was kind of a nice guy, a hard man, but a generally nice guy. He was big and fat and smelled like sweat all the time. He really lived up to his named. He was always sweating and eating and looking at his sterling silver wristwatch. He wore a polo the size of a trash bag, a white one, with grease stains on it, and khaki shorts. His legs were almost hairless and this bright pink color, like a bruised pink. or like a sun burn, even during the winter. It was weird. I always had this weird fixation on his legs. Not in a weird way, just like, I couldn’t help but stare at them. I don’t think he ever noticed. They were like sausages that ended in shoes. Did he ever think about eating his legs? He liked food, so why not?
Anyway, so there I was at Big Al’s Pizza Emporium. Like I said, we did deliveries, and that’s what my job was. I wrote down all the delivery orders, the phone number & the address for the person. Then I’d stick it on this little metal spike with a wide base that sat on the window that looked into the kitchen so the guys cooking pizzas would know what to make. I was to be real nice and courteous to the customers that called in. I was, I was. I’m generally a nice guy, after all, what else would you expect from a guy as nice as me? I’d say please and thank you and then I’d hang up, but only after they hang up first. Sometimes people didn’t wanna hang up first so I’d pretend like I hung up already.
This day in particular was pretty busy. Mike and Jordan in the kitchen were slacking off like they usually did but it didn’t bother me, really. I just took orders in the front and wrote down delivery orders. Sometimes if it got real bad Al would have me work in the back too, doing both the front and back. I hated doing it, but I never said anything.
While I was taking an order for two large pepperoni pizzas with extra grease and toe nails, this couple walked up and stood there staring at me for about thirty seconds. I held up a finger and mouthed ‘I’ll be with you in a second’ but I guess they didn’t know how to read lips because the man opened his mouth and went
“HEY, are you just gonna ignore us YA little PUNK?”
I was kind of shocked, I mean, I was a little shocked. I finished the order real quick and hung up and just kinda looked at the man and his smiling wife, she was smiling so much.
That’s when Big Al (he really preferred it if we called him ‘Big Al’) came lumbering out of his office next to the kitchen and up to the front where I was.
“Hi there, folks,” he grunted, “I’m Big Al, what seems to be the problem?”
“This weird little kid has been ignoring us, talking on the phone!”
“Is that true?” Big Al said, looking at my face.
“Well–I mean…”
“It is true,” said the wife “look at him? Why does he look like that?”
Then her husband laughed “yeah, actually, are you sure it’s a boy? I think it might be a girl.”
Big Al waved his hand and laughed like he was trying to laugh, but he was wiping his forehead with his other hand and staring at me. It really creeped me out, y’know? It really skeeved me.
“It’s not, I was taking an order,” I said, “it was like, y’know, like ten seconds,” when the man with the wife heard that he groaned in this really animated way and said this:
“Look you fucking sasquatch, the customer is always right, isn’t that right?” and pointed at a signed that said ‘the customer is always right’.
“Yes, that’s right,” said his wife, in this really squeaky voice “the customer is always right!”
“Yes, yes, the customer is always right,” said Big Al, “isn’t that right? The customer? ALWAYS right?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“What?” he said.
“Yes, I suppose so,” I said.
“Get out of here, I’ll take this for a moment. You go take a break.”
I nodded and looked at the man and wife and they smiled at me and I noticed the man had a big space between his teeth and a gold chain around his neck. I looked kind of like a really tanned Huey Lewis. Like a really Greek Huey Lewis. His wife was taller than him and very plastic. I hate plastic looking people, well not hate, but there’s something about them I don’t like. They really skeeve me.
I started heading back to the break area. To get to it you had to pass between the kitchen and Big Al’s office, go down a small hallways, past the garbage we piled in the back, and out this set of doors that locked after 9 pm. They locked to keep out burglars, but I’ve never heard of anything over here getting burgled. Then again I don’t really talk much, or watch the news. The news is really sad, it’s always like ‘some terrible man choked his baby daughter to death with a bungie cord and then stuck her in the freezer,’ or ‘the challenger exploded again today, why do they keep putting people in space? more at 6,’ or ‘a chimpanzee at the zoo got out of his cage and tore up this little boy’s face.’ It’s rea;;y brutal, brutal stuff. I don’t know why anyone watches it. I don’t. Maybe they watch it for the same reason they slow down and stair at bad car wrecks.
I started passing by the kitchen and Big Al’s office and when I was out of sight I stopped and listened, they were talking about me I think.
“Yeah, so what’s with that kid?”
“Yeah, she looks kind of weird?”
“Is it a boy or is it a girl?”
“I know what you mean, that kid creeps me out. Also a real big slacker, always standing around mouth halfway open. Don’t worry about it. Look folks, pizza’s on the house today how about that?”
Then there was another voice that wasn’t one of the three up front.
“Hey there buddy, how ya doin?”
It was Jordan. He worked in the kitchen with Mike. Mike was alright but he always hung out with Jordan, and Jordan is kind of weird. They played off each other a lot.
“Huh?” I said, I said ‘huh’ whenever I didn’t want to talk about something, but I don’t think most people got it.
“I hear you got bitched out by Big Al, how’d that go?”
“Huh? Oh, I, no he didn’t yell at me or anything.”
“So what happened?”’
“He said I could go on break,” I said. He did say that.
“No it isn’t, that’s not all, those people thought you were pretty weird right?” he turned his head and looked at Mike. Mike looked at him. Mike always looked like he was really stoned. He probably was. “That’s okay,” Jordan started again, “we don’t think you’re weird, you should come and hang out with us some time, right Mike?”
Mike looked at him again.
“Well thanks but I gotta take a break now bye,” I said real fast. They creeped me out. I didn’t like being in the kitchen when they were hanging out together. Separate they were alright, like if one was home sick, then it was okay. They didn’t really talk much then, but together it was always creepsville.
I walked outside, out the back door. There was a dumpster on either side of the back door. I always thought it was a weird place for dumpsters. Something never set quite right with me about how they were placed. I don’t know.
I sat down and started picking at some of the little rocks on the grown and flicking them off. I never knew what to do with myself on breaks. I waited for a few minutes and then when I was sure there was no one around I pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my jacked. I didn’t like for anyone to know that I smoked. I don’t know why, I just didn’t. I liked to keep some things private.
It was a soft pack. Marlboro 100s, the big ones. I dunno why I liked them. I lit it up and took a drag. I felt a lot better instantly. I couldn’t even remember why I was so bummed out in the first place. I dunno. They say cigarettes are addictive or whatever, but I just don’t get it. I’m not addicted to 'em. I went like a week last month without a cigarette and I was fine. I’ve been smoking since I was 13, too! People don’t know anything.
I mean, it’s like what I said about the news, right? People are all caught up in things. I don’t understand it. Maybe I’m different, I don’t know. People always treat me different too. Or at least I think they do. They might not. I hope I don’t sound vain to you, the last thing I want to seem is vain. I’ve probably only ever looked at myself in the mirror a dozen times. I don’t like doing it. I mean, I dunno, sometimes I’ll make goofy poses in the mirror and laugh but that’s it really, I don’t study myself and make sure I look right and everything like some people do.
But what was with those people in there? I didn’t think I did anything wrong, but everyone started getting on my case. What was that all about? Yelling at me and calling me names and stuff. I never did that to people. I’m a really nice guy, after all. I’m never mean to people. Heck, I never say anything mean. I’m sarcastic sometimes, I like being sarcastic. Sarcasm carries wit and witty people are smart people. Have you ever met a witty dumb person? Exactly.
That’s what I’m talking about though. I can’t stand this job anymore, and I wanted to quit, but like I said I was afraid to. I just couldn’t do it, but I’d have to, if I didn’t want to work here anymore then what was the point of staying? I didn’t want to get stuck at some dead-end job like some people. I don’t even care that much for working. The only reason I’ve worked at Big Al’s Pizza Emporium for 6 years is because, well, to be truthful, I forgot what was going on. I don’t mean like amnesia like on soap operas, but I go to work and kinda just work and then when my shift’s over I go home and go to sleep. The time kinda just flies by and I don’t really notice any of it happening. It kinda worries me, I bet that’s how a lot of people who get stuck at their jobs are. I don’t want to be like that, so I’ve been thinking a lot. Planning out how I was gonna do it real carefully.
I did try to quit actually. After I finished my cigarette I walked back in and saw the place was mostly empty. For a second I worried that I had been outside all day but then I saw the clock was only 3:14 so I kept going. At first I felt really like I was full of courage but each step I took I felt a little more dragged down and small. I kept growing smaller and smaller as I walked towards Big Al’s office that by the time I was almost there I was still miles away from it. I tripped over a penny. You’ve gotta be real small to trip over a penny! Small, small, small.
“Hey, what’s up? can I help you?”
It was Big Al. He was sitting in this rollie office chair from the 70s. It was really squeaky. I hated it. I don’t like squeaky things.
He was looking at me with this concerned look on his face. Actually I think it was fake concern, like sarcastic concern, y’know? Al didn’t seem too bright sometimes, but he was sarcastic to me a lot, so he must’ve been pretty smart. I’m being sarcastic, by the way.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, remembering how small I was, I wasn’t sure how to do this. Big Al raised an eyebrow at me in this really sarcastic way. Why did he think I was weird? I didn’t think HE was weird! Why did he say that? I don’t think I’M weird. I mean, I’m quiet, but I’m not weird! Why is being quiet weird for some people? Why are people so weirded out by quiet folks? So I don’t have a lot to say! Maybe I’m wrapped up in my thought or something. Why is that weird? Maybe they’re not used to thoughts. They must not think a lot. Maybe people who are afraid of quiet folk are also afraid of thinking? That must be why they talk so much–they don’t wanna think. If they think too much they’ll start getting little cracks in the walls around them and everything will fall apart. If they start thinking too much they’ll see what a miserable existence they have. There life is pitiful, it really is if you think about it. They say things, half of which they don’t mean, stupid things too, they say things that don’t make sense. They say things people ignore but they try to act like they’re listening. It’s actually pretty depressing when you think about the state of affairs of people who don’t like quiet folk.
Then I started feeling bad for Big Al. Like, he didn’t like quiet folk. What was his big folly? If I quit, then who’d work the front? Mike and Jordan are dumb, they can’t do it. Big Al’s got important chairs to sit in. It’s all up to me. Or the night team, but the girl who runs the front at night doesn’t really know what she’s doing half the time. I felt bad for Big Al I didn’t want his business to close if I quit. Then he’d start thinking too much and he’d think and think and then he’d feel really bad and want to kill himself.
I might not like my job, but I didn’t want Big Al to blow his brains all over the walls because I quit. So I said this:
“Um, nothing Big Al,”
“Um,” he said “okay. Well, look. Y’know that girl who works nights? You have the same position as her.”
“Yeah, I know of her,” I said. After all, I didn’t really know her I think I met her like once.
“She quit yesterday and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind filling in for her?”
“Do you mean taking her shift?”
“…and your shift,” and then real quick he added; “Just for now. It won’t be very long until I get someone else to take over. Have you ever worked nights?” he said all this while waving his hand like he was sweeping away bad thoughts. Probably thoughts that would make him blow his brains out.
What was I getting myself into? I thought.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have a problem doing that.”
“But have you ever worked nights?” I thought that was a weird thing for him to ask. He needed me to do it, right? So then what did it matter if I had worked nights before or not? If he needed me to fill in, he needed me to fill in. Why did it matter?
“Yeah, I have… before,” I lied, I don’t know why I do that some times. Not very often though.
“Here?”
“Well,” is that what he wanted to know? Shouldn’t HE know? “no, not… here.”
“oh, so where?”
This is why I didn’t like lying. I always tried to say what I thought people wanted me to say, but then it turns out they wanted something different!
“Like uh,” this was the first place I had ever worked, but I couldn’t tell him that, then he’d know I lied! “I worked at my uncle’s burger place for a while. I worked nights.”
“Oh yeah?” he said, all interested now, “where’s that at? What’s his name?”
“Dale. Oh, it’s in Wichita, yeah I worked nights there.”
“I didn’t know you lived in Wichita?”
I was getting really uncomfortable with this. Luckily a customer walked in so I went back to work at the register. Dodged another bullet. It was weird that the other girl quit working here like I wanted to. She had my same position too. Maybe it was fortuitous that I didn’t quit. Well, fortuitous for Big Al anyway. I’m not sure if I’m even using that word right.
“Welcome to Big Al’s how can I help you?” I said, all sing-songy. I say it a lot. When I say things a lot they start getting all sing-songy.
“Hey there, what’s yer name?” the customer at the counter said. I don’t know why he said that. He said it all weird too.
“Oh, people here call me the Avenger,” they don’t actually call me that by the way.
“The Avenger huh? What are you, like some kind of pizza superhero?” I don’t even know why I said it.
“No, more like a cashier. What can I get for you?” I’m pretty good sometimes.
The guy gave me his order and I typed it into the cash register. He gave me the money and I gave him his receipt and I stuck the other receipt on the spiky thing in the window to the kitchen. They knew if it was a delivery order or a here order because the deliveries where hand-written and the here orders were typed. Pretty good system, eh? I thought of it. You don’t work at a place for 6 years without making some contributions.