ICYMI, Part IV - Page 2

My revelry was interrupted by the Shamrock Foods rep, having little time to set a schedule for the week ahead, and then the phone rang. As this has become a rare occurrence, I was surprised and truthfully bewildered when I saw it was my landlord. Tanya, at reception, has wanted to fuck for almost 3 years now but is actually calling to remind me that I've owed $10 for the last 2 months. She just asks that I include the amount on the next rent payment and wanted to say that her and Al were just talking about me and how happy they are to have me as a long term resident in their community. If I ever need anything, they're just a phone call away and it does Tanya's heart good to see me... anyone really, come up after struggling for so long. I tell her it's been a while and she asks if the new job is going well and I explain I'm still employed while I doubt everything I believe is 100% accurate. Tanya and Al are rooting for me in the upcoming hearings. My heart is warm and soft like an offbrand beignet. 

Earlier, I'd read a disturbing article on VICE about a recent uptick in ER visits for glitter lung, symptoms being cyanosis, vomiting, extreme coughing after inhaling gold dust from non-toxic cake decorations or metallic paints. You would think that this epidemic would be more common among children, but some adults seem unclear about the difference between non-toxic and non-edible in 2026... 

Growing up on Willowtown Hill, it was understood that my previous life was fraught with unsuspecting challenges; my biological grandmother had schizophrenia and would scream in my face or ignore my crying spells, push me off the counter when left to her care; having admitted only that, the mythology grows with each passing decade and by the time I reach a reasonable plot, I'm sure she will have grown 7 snake heads and spit venom down my throat when I clung to her breast for milk; my grandfather in possession of sharp fangs, hunting small prey in the heat of bloodlust... 

I was considering my granddaughter's future when Devyn Tuttle walked in the stall like he was wearing Calzuro clogs in an Operating room post-procedure. 

"Sup, boss?"

"Hey man, how you doing?"

"Good. Yourself?"

Sometimes I forget there's a fat white pill in my hand because my focus is easily thwarted by menial distractions. After our weekly 1-on1 meeting, I got the deep impression Kennedy (area manager) had intentions of firing me in the near future, and had once again, fallen off the wagon as he smelled like booze, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was more pale than usual, his head down and at what he thought was safe enough a distance for me to overlook the smell. He doesn't usually read reviews but when there are several that say the same he needs to address the situation. I know about the curriculum for graduates of what I like to call Roy Cohn's Deflection School for the Criminally Insane. I laugh about the idea of RC-a dean of admissions at a local university, as I walk silently under the shadow of Denver Justice High School in the opposite direction of my restaurant. I take ownership that doesn't belong to me. I discriminate against DT because of his illiteracy, because he brags about dropping out of the 4th grade and ultimately paying for a diploma. He reminds me of my son-in-law. He takes initiative but lacks ability to follow direction. He wears 1 ear bud all the time, does work that is counterintuitive, and I want to transfer him to another location before this gets ugly. He's a little narc, he runs his mouth alot and carries 2 knives, and I unwittingly hired him not long after he was fired from the stall to our left for potentially stealing money from the register. I say all this because I never know when I'll need it, I read what I can and what I need for times when I'll need it. I have to keep an eye on this kid all the time and I don't need that in my life. DT says he knows krav maga, I stick with the Diagonal Rule: Red Light, Make a Right. Don't make a fight.