“We are sad to admit that we have run out of ketchup packets due to the massacre that occurred earlier and to the rumor that Chuck Norris was here, that is indeed false. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your time at BEE LINE BOWL.”
Thanks to that massacre, I’m stuck here and not there with Summer Summerhays. Yep. My life sucks.
BEE LINE BOWL is not the ideal summer job. The mix of three-day-old smoke, faded avocado green, paper-thin, capert, fake leather, sticky floors, harsh lighting and bad 80’s love ballads aren’t easy on the senses. Andy was off in Egypt, digging up mummies and mackin’ on hott foreign girls. James was offered an internship at the MoMA. Me, all I’ve got is the BEE LINE, cheap domestic beer and Summer. But I don’t have Summer yet. That’s in the works.
But this massacre is tramping my style. Literally. My white Vans now are stained a nice blood red.
Why today? Another day would have been fine. But today, Kid Rock is in town. I planned on skipping the fence to enjoy the sounds of “Mississippi, Jackson” fill the thick, sticky night air. With Summer in tow. Tonight was the night I was going to make the move. Our lips would intertwine and swap spit. But no, stuck here. Picking up hundreds of empty ketchup packets.
The kid wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Do you have any ketchup bottles?”
“Nope, Buddy. Only the packets.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. That’s the way the boss man wants it.”
“Well. I don’t like ketchup in a packet. Mom says that it causes cancer.”
“Sorry to hear that. But that is all we have.”
“I will be back. And it won’t be pretty.”
Whatever. How much harm can a pretentious eight year old do?
Turns out a lot.
Here I’m, after hours and the soapy mop water resembles tomato soup. The boss man blamed this whole predicament on me. Threatened to fire me if the BEE LINE is not back into shape in time for the Bending Babes practice in the morning. Good thing I only have 5 hours left and there is no way that all the ketchup is going to be out from the nooks in the ceiling.
Tomorrow will bring a lost job and lost chances with a girl. But hey, at least I went out with a bang. Guess the Chuck Norris signature will fund the next week of beer.
2 comments:
I really enjoyed this. What's it from LJ?
I wrote it.
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