This is where I got it. Deal with it.
I got a job pushing carts for Walmart recently and, yeah, I know, a punk rocker working at Walmart is like finding a tic on a banker's neck, but listen, the pay is good, they'll work around my school hours and, let's be honest, I live in Shelby, North Carolina. There aren't a lot of record stores or Kombucha stands to be employed with.I haven't been very successful in that way, but there's always tomorrow. Well, until I get melanoma and they cut my face off. Then the $11 an hour won't feel as good.
Anyways, cleaning up after these 35-year old infants yields weird and not-usually fun stuff. Like, here, check out today. I fricking found a Sun Drop bottle, with a small pool of brown liquid in the bottom, and a cigarette (or two?) swimming around. Like, the effort to put a cigarette in a Sun Drop bottle when the trash can was right there is astounding. Should I applaud them??
I found a busted up case of mango flavored sparkling water. I don't know what happened to the case, but three or four of the drinks were fine, so I took them. They were in cans, so it's not like someone could've dropped AIDS in the can and then sealed it back up with a blowtorch. Or, I mean, they could, but I don't see why they'd do it.
My friend wanted me to come over after work. I've had a pretty long history with him. He recorded my first album, and also went insane a year ago, and I skipped a day of school, armed with 20 bucks to go find him. He was pouring salt all over the floor of an abandoned(ish) house in Morganton.
Anyways, so my parents don't love me seeing him, and I didn't really tell them until right before I left. I got a weird guilt trip thingy from my mom, like "We have ice cream. You can't have any if you don't watch this movie with us. You'd chose him over your own family?"
Oh, my family I see every day? Dang, what was I thinking. Sorry bud, long time friend and confidant, my fricking family wants every ounce of my free time.
sigh
My mood is such a lightweight thing and I hate it. Like, I was miserable for the first four hours of work. The sun was hot, I didn't smile a lot, I was stressed because we were understaffed. Then I went and got Taco Bell and it got cooler outside and I was like "HELLO ALL!!!" I rode around in the carts and made faces at chicks, almost like I'd never went through an emotionally crippling relationship and lost all confidence!
That's stupid, right?
But by my last hour, I was chafed and it was a w f u l. It still is. I can tell you this because I don't have to look at your face when I type this. I have power!
Anyways, chafed. Yay.
I left for Daniel's. His house is relatively close to mine now. He lives with this chick now, and they do music together. They were posting the new album at the moment I walked in. It was a momentous occasion. Chips were eaten. But then they found out the spelled "Strangers" like "Stangers" and, an hour later, they were posting the corrected album. I made a sad joke about if musicians got payed by the hour, we'd be hella rich.
Daniel says "Let's go for a walk!" My thighs cry in anguish.
I took the walk, thinking "When we get home, I get to leave." Not because I wasn't enjoying myself, it's just the chafing. And I think I have some sunburn too. Frick.
Anyways, we walked a good ways to the gas station, and apparently they had no money to begin with. They were looking for cigarette butts in the wind sill so they could smoke the tobacco out of them, but there weren't any butts.
Remember the cigarettes from earlier?
Yeah, they don't come into play.
We walked back and had a conversation about how, if someone asks you to read/borrow a book, you do it because most of the people you know are likely illiterate or don't care enough about you to cut a piece off themselves and hand it to you. On loan, or whatever.
I drove home, and had a stupid idea to post on Steemit for the first time in a month, not about Germany or my recent trip to and performance in Illinois, not about releasing a new album or getting my stuff on iTunes and Spotify and stuff (finally!), no, about cigarettes and chafed thighs. After a shower, of course.
Sometimes when I'm at walmart I walk around the parking lot and put carts away in their proper places. I really do that, and once a worker came up and gave me a hug for it. That would have usually been a creepy thing but it wasn't.
I love your writing. So interesting always and fun to read. I wish we were neighbors!
♥-serena
Aww, thank you! I wish we were neighbors too! I could be all "Yo, wanna cook ravioli and play Hank Williams covers or something?" and you could be all "Nah fam, what the h*ck?" and then I'd laugh and you'd move away again. :D
Nah, for real though, you're not t h a t far away! We're, like, state neighbors :P
Ha! What the h*eck!? That sounds wonderful! True we are pretty close geographically. :D I like ve hank sr!
Then it's settled! See you in a week! :P
JKJK!
But that would be cool.
This post was shared in the Curation Collective Discord community for curators, and upvoted and resteemed by the @c-squared community account after manual review.
Weird and funky.
But, hey, I read it to the end and it had me smiling the whole time.
Nice story.
Joe
@joe.nobel
science fiction, fantasy, erotica
I have a new story Infidelity Games, part 1, 2, 3 posted. Part 4 on its way.
Careful, erotically graphic.