Monday, February 7, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Paper Hearts And A Red Haired Tart part eight
Price Breaks and Heartaches
A journal of retail and failed romance
Part Five
Paper Hearts And A Red Haired Tart
part eight
Somehow the employees of Paper Shredder store #42 for ready by the soft opening date; Bud and Chuck were put to work stocking shelves and customers, the older employees were put up front to run the cash registers, Tallulah was working in the copy center in the back and yours truly was working in the book department.
*
The store PA blared to life, “Al to the front for a price check.”
Ah, some things never changed. I set aside the inventory sheets I was working on and headed up front. Patty was running the main register, she was in her fifties and I think she was a little overwhelmed by the two or three customers we had shopping in the store.
The Paper Shredder uniform was slacks a white shirt and a green smock with the store logo stitched on it. It was odd to try in run in it was almost like a skirt. It kind of helped me understand how the heroines in horror films could never quite outrun those slow moving mummies and aliens.
When I got to the front of the store I found Patty starring confusedly at a package of pencils and a customer glaring. “How can I help?” I gave the customer what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Patty handed me the package, “How much are these pens?”
“You mean pencils,” I said. “The price is right here on the ticket in the corner.”
“But it doesn't match,” Patty explained. “I rang in the price and the department but she said it was the wrong price.”
The customer gave me a pleading glance, “The sign on the shelf says they're 2.99 but she keeps insisting they're 3.49.”
Patty said, “It says that on the price tag.”
“Oh I see. You see the price you were using was the price before the Paper Shredder store discount.” I turned the customer and said, “Paper Shredder shreds prices and passes the savings on to you.”
“So what do I do?” Patty asked.
“You just hit the ring back button and that will erase what you did.”
“How do I do that?”
“It's the big red button that says ring back.”
“Oh for the love of God,” the customer stormed out.
Patty wrung her hands, “Oh my.”
“I wouldn't worry,” I said. “That's what soft openings are for right?”
“I thought this was the grand opening.”
“Uh-no.” I turned to go.
“Wait, how do I get rid of this sale.”
I called back, “Just call a manager and ask him to void the sale.”
The book department was my kind of work, I loved familiarizing myself with the stock and arranging things just so. There was a horror section and I made sure to make sure that all my favorite authors had their books facing outwards and the ones I thought were crap only had their spines showing. I thought to myself that when I had made my fortune I might open a bookstore of my own and call it Bruno's Books or something equally corny. I dreamed of having an office in back to write my books while my employees worked on the sales floor. I imagined customer's coming in and then begging me for autographs. I fantasized about the girls that had scorned me high school in visiting my place of business and becoming completely orgasmic when they learned of our special order polices. I imagined giving one or two of those former cheerleaders a grand tour until they were so overcome with desire that they would allow me to thumb through the index of their most primal desires.
Man I was glad that smock covered any unsightly bulges that might arise.
The store's PA system blared to life again, “Al to the front to void a sale.”
More than a little confused I headed up to the front to see two customers now lined up waiting for Patty to cash them out. I said, “I'm sorry I can't do voids, only managers can do voids.”
Patty stared at me for a few moments, “You're not a manager?”
“No. I'm not even close.” I looked at the building line and said, “I'll ring you folks out over at this register. Patty just ask for a manager to come to the front and they can fix that for you.”
I got to work taking care of the customer's while Patty picked up her register phone and dialed #9, the store intercom beeped to life and she called for assistance but then forgot to turn off the intercom giving the entire building the chance to hear her confused ditherings.
Once the cashiering was done I headed back to my books leaving Ms. Cooper to deal with the chaos that was Patty's cash register. I got about six minutes of shelving done when I heard Tallulah page “Al to the copy center.”
That's right the book guy had to help with the front register and the copy center. Ah well, there's nothing like being irreplaceable is there? I headed to the back of the store to see Tallulah monitoring a job on each of the two copiers. There were self service machines nearby but no one was using them. There was another customer not being waited on so I asked him what he needed. Thankfully he just wanted to check out a few of the cross pens we had on display, I hadn't really gotten a lot of training on the copiers yet.
“Hey Tallulah,” I called back. “I need the keys to the display case.”
The keys came flying across the room and hit me in the back of the head. I'm sure it was an accident. I spent about ten minutes showing off pens of varying expense. The customer picked one out and asked me to find her a gift box; I headed back to the copy center to do so.
The copiers we used back there were huge multi-purpose things, they could staple, sort and print on multiple forms of media. They also put out about as much heat as your average restaurant kitchen. Tallulah was hard at work here, juggling multiple orders and talking to Bud. However as I rooted around for an appropriately sized gift box I realized she wasn't as much talking to him as scolding him. She wasn't yelling but I could tell even over the whoosh and roar of the copiers that she was verbally cutting him to shreds.
A redhead with a bad temper? As if I wasn't smitten before...
After the pen sale the next hour or so was divided between books and cashiering with the occasional excursion into the realm of office supplies. By the time my 15 minute break rolled around I felt I had earned that can of Pepsi and handful of snacks.
Paper Shredder store#42's break room was nothing more than a table sized indention in the wall about the width of two office cubicles. There were mismatched chairs and a folding table there for the employees’ enjoyment and relaxation. I wasn't alone in the break room for those fifteen minutes, Tallulah was sitting there, her arms were crossed and she was fuming.
“Cookie?” I said.
She frowned at me, “What?”
I decided it might be best to speak a little more slowly, “I said do you want a cookie. My mom made them so but they're relatively dog hair free.”
“No thanks Albert.”
“Al is fine you know,” I sat down across the table from her. “I couldn't help but notice you having words with Bud, now I know it's none of my-”
She spat, “He's a complete asshole.”
Well she was opening up to me, that was something. “In what way?” I asked. “I mean aside from the obvious reasons.”
That earned me a chuckle.
Tallulah said, “He took me on a date. Standard dinner and a movie, and it wasn't even really dinner. It was the food court at the mall...”
I noted to myself that dinner at Arby's wasn't as romantic as I had thought.
“The movie was 'Can't Buy Me Love' and it was OK, I guess,” she said. “But the idea was pretty sad, imagine some dweeby guy wasting all four years of high school mooning over some girl he was never going to get. I mean it's pathetic isn't it?”
“...yeah,” I said with a small cringe. “What a loser.”
“But the kicker was afterwards when we get back to his car he wants to hang out and talk,” she made quotation marks with her fingers. “And by talk he meant he expected me to give him a handjob.”
“He what?” my cookie crumbled in my hand, chips dropped to the table.
Tallulah’s scowl deepened, “He thought that since he took me to the movies I was obligated to get him off.”
I was amazed, “When did this rule start?”
“First I heard of it but then again I did go to high school in Shenandoah. I hear the girls around here were a little looser if you know what I mean.”
“They were? They are?” I set the cookie down my appetite ruined, “I think I missed out on more in high school than I realized.”
“I kind of thought so,” she gave me a mischievous grin and broke off a piece of my cookie. “Breaks over. Gotta go.”
A handjob for a movie? I wondered to myself, Is there some secret price list I never knew about?
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Spider-Man, Spider-Man, make you look at his crotch he can!
It looks like the Spider-Man reboot has taken a turn into 'nipples on the Batsuit' territory...
Thanks TOPLESS ROBOT for making me remember why I rarely go outside anymore...
Also...
Friday, February 4, 2011
ORDINARY WONDERS AND BLEAK MIRACLES: Waiting For Zachary
ORDINARY WONDERS AND BLEAK MIRACLES
Waiting For Zachary
by
Al Bruno III
Ken Grady hated the drive to the Muldwych Assisted Living Facility. He hated the place itself even more. He hated the staff with their trained pleasantries, he hated the pre-fabricated buildings and the layout that made him feel like he was an unwanted guest in a second rate country club.
Most of all he hated the residents; so many of them had allowed age to turn them into the walking wounded. Some of them couldn’t even do that, they rolled to and fro in their wheelchairs and motorized carts. Ken was seventy-five years old but he looked ten years younger. Plenty of folks asked him his secret, was it genetics or clean living? Was it diet or prayer?
His only answer was that staying young was looking Father Time right in the eye and telling him to fuck off. That was something he did a lot these days.
The nurses heard him knock and buzzed him in to building four, the tallest building in the facility. It looked half like a prison and half like a hospital because that was just what it was.
After another change of empty pleasantries with the staff he made his way through the locked glass doors that served as checkpoints and entered room 814.
Jennifer was sitting in a chair by the window, the television was blaring nonsense but she didn’t seem to notice or care.
“How are you feeling today?” Ken asked as he took a seat next to her.
His wife didn’t look at him when he spoke, she just kept watching nothing. Her hands were clasped together and her fingers moved with mindless precision, a lingering memory of the rosary she had used to count on Sunday mornings.
On the TV some poorly dressed fool was winning cash and prizes. Ken sighed heavily.
Friends and family had told him this daily ritual was no longer necessary, that Jennifer would have wanted him to move on, but how could they know that? How could they know that when Alzheimer's had robbed her of the ability to speak?
Besides Ken couldn’t abandon her, not after almost forty years of marriage, not after all the laughter, love and the occasional spectacular argument.
Jennifer paused in her finger counting, then started again.
As they had grown older they had spoken frankly about deathbeds and do not resuscitate orders. Somehow what was happening now had never come up. Was that foolishness? Or hope? Ken supposed it was a bit of both.
Her illness had begun with forgotten names but had quickly progressed to lost hours and terrifying confusions. Ken had tried to care for her himself but as more and more of her memory had eroded away he had been left with no choice but to entrust her in the care of professionals.
The day he had left her at the Muldwych Assisted Living Facility had been a terrible one. Jennifer had been lucid and spiteful. She had cursed and spat and worst of all she had told him he had never been her first choice, that she should have waited for Zachary.
The name had haunted Ken. He had tried to dismiss it as ramblings but every night as he lay alone in his too-empty bed he turned it over and over in his mind.
Jennifer had a younger sister in Calgary and after some consideration he called her. It took some prying but eventually he learned everything. For decades it had been Ken and Jennifer against the world but before that there had been Zachary. Jennifer had been little more than a teenager then but she had been so very much in love. He was three years older and already on his way to making a life and a career. They would have been married after she graduated from high school but the draft had robbed them of that dream. He had been declared missing in action.
She had promised she would wait, she had been waiting for almost four years when Ken had met her and fallen in love. He had worked tirelessly to win her heart, but he had just thought she was playing hard to get. He had never suspected he was trying to get her to break that promise.
It had hurt to know there had been someone else, someone his wife had loved enough to spend a lifetime keeping a secret. Ken wondered how often she had allowed herself to think of her first love, if in the best moments of their marriage there had been a part of her that secretly mourned what might have been.
Ken didn’t think so because through the good times and bad he had always been able to make her smile.
He could still do it, even now.
“Hey...” he leaned forward in his seat and took her twitching hand in his, “...it’s Zachary.”
Slowly Jennifer’s eyes brightened and she broke into a grin.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Nine Hundred and Thirteen
Then John Travolta starred in a movie that combined disco music and internet tech support called 'Stayin' Online'.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Nine Hundred and Twelve
Psychotic Kid rarely revealed the secrets of his ninja training, especially the part where he had to dip his scrotum in a koi pond.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Nine Hundred and Eleven
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Nine Hundred and Ten
You dress for the job you want not the job you have, which is why Amazing Ed wore a superhero costume while working at Jiffy Lube.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Nine Hundred and Nine
Rigor mortise had set in 5 minutes before death, a sure sign of a Viagra overdose.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Nine Hundred and Eight
“Shakespeare was right,” the doctor said as the dairy farmer flatlined for the 999th time, “cowherds do die a thousand deaths.”
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
In The Shadow Of His Nemesis ends two years later
In The Shadow Of His Nemesis epilogue
In The Shadow Of His Nemesis
Epilogue
By AL BRUNO III
A cluster of houses, motels and stores sprawled between the interstate and Grand Canyon National Park. The buildings facing the road were devoted to the businesses that depended on the steady traffic of tourists going to and from the park for survival. The houses of the people who lived and worked in the those businesses and Park itself were relegated to the sidestreets.
Night stretched from one flat horizon to the next, winter stars sparkled and the moonlight shone. The village was dark save for the irregular stream of headlights cascading down the interstate. It was a little after three in the morning.
The woman who lived in the second floor apartment above the Magic Lantern Gift Shop twisted and turned in bed, unable to return to sleep. Lying there, with nothing more than a pillow to hold for comfort, she listened intently for whatever had woken her.
There it was again, a gentle knocking. A thin film of fearful sweat seeped from her pores.
Slowly uncurling her hands from the pillow she reached into the open night stand drawer. The revolver’s weight was reassuring.
The knocking continued, persistent if not assertive.
She got out of bed and fumbled into her robe, the gun never leaving her hand. For a moment she debated the wisdom of switching on the lights and finally decided that at this point it didn't matter.
Turning on the hallway light, she paused to make sure everything was all right in the room next to hers before moving on. The knocking began a third time. She clicked the kitchen light on with the muzzle of her revolver. The knocking died abruptly, leaving her to briefly wonder if in her paranoia she'd imagined the whole thing.
Well, one way or another she was going to find out.
After a deep breath, she opened the door.
"Isobel." the man in the doorway said.
After not using it for so long her name sounded alien to her. She hadn't even dared think of herself as Isobel Talbot for fear she might somehow give herself away.
Well, either invite him in or tell him to get lost. She thought, You don't need someone noticing him.
"Come in," she slipped the revolver into the pocket of her robe and stepped aside. Isobel tried to imagine how she must look, worn down and pudgy with hair that was going prematurely gray.
"Your timing's good," she said grimly, he still looked exactly the same, "it's almost a year to the day since I saw you last."
Isobel offered him a seat at the kitchen table, he accepted. "I searched for you whenever I could."
"How did you find me?" she leaned on the refrigerator.
"It wasn't easy. You left very little to go on."
"That was the idea." Isobel said, "The Monarchs-”
Galen smiled, "The Monarchs have other problems to worry about these days."
"Well I don't have to ask how you've been occupying your time do I?" Isobel returned the smile in spite of herself.
Galen laughed nervously, shifting in his seat, "How have you been?"
"Don’t you mean who have I been?”
“That too,”
“I had to help Zeth get Magwier back to Windham. He woke up while Zeth was stealing a car and handed me an envelope from his pocket. It was full of cash. And a fake driver’s license for a woman that looked just like me,” she chewed her lip, “a woman named Lily Ferguson.”
Galen said, “He kept calling you Lily before that.”
“I know but he looked as surprised as I was to see it,” Isobel said. “As soon as I could I started making my way on my own. It was rough at first but once I got here the woman that owns the store downstairs, her name is Joyce, she took pity on me and gave me a place to stay."
"That was kind," Galen's sorrowful eyes lingered on her.
"It worked out pretty good too. I design T-shirts for her now." Isobel shrugged, "I guess my art degree finally paid off."
Galen looked up suddenly, his hackles raising at the faint rustling sound.
"No." Isobel raised a hand, "It's nothing to worry about."
“Who is it?”
She appeared lost in thought for a moment and then said, "Come on. I'll show you."
Hand in her bathrobe she led him to the room.
Galen stiffened at the sight of the crib, "You were- I- We-"
Loving, cooing words leaving her mouth, Isobel reached into the crib and hefted the heavy red-haired baby in her arms. Gurgling, his tiny hands flailed at the air, his dark eyes blinked.
"Galen meet Warren." Isobel said. "My son."
"-our son..." he said with disbelief, reaching for the baby with trembling hands. Isobel carefully passed him over to Galen. "How old is he?"
"Three, almost four months."
"He's big." Galen smiled, his son reaching out to touch his face.
"Tell me about it." Isobel took him back, "They had to do a C-section to get him out. He was a few pounds short of the hospital record."
Galen helped tuck his son into the crib, "He's beautiful."
"Yeah," she gently kissed Warren's forehead, "When I first found out about him, I didn't know what I was going to do, but he ended up being the only thing that's kept me going."
"You were the only thing that’s kept me going all this time."
Isobel wound up the mobile dangling over the crib and returned to the kitchen. Galen paused and watched his child staring raptly at the rotating musical chimes before following her.
"Do you need money or anything?" she leaned on the refrigerator.
"I need you." Galen drew close, "I've missed you."
She crossed her arms, "Galen-"
"What? What's wrong?"
"What did you come back for that night Galen?" Her voice was growing cooler, "To make an honest woman of me? To rescue me? Or something else? Were you going to cover your tracks?"
“I’m sorry"
"Galen..." she said slowly, "You have to go now."
"I love you! I made a mistake, I made so many mistakes.”
"I love you too." Isobel opened the door as Warren began to wail, "But I can’t trust you. I’ve learned a lot about you over the last year. Magwier and his friends watch over me and they’ve told me everything.”
"Please! I’ve changed."
"It's not about me anymore Galen." she said gently, "It's about my child, I have to do what's best for him."
They stood staring at each other then finally Galen crossed to the door, "Can I see you again someday?"
"We'll be gone by tomorrow."
Galen turned and walked down the stairs.
Isobel closed the door and almost ran to Warren’s crib, he quieted as soon as he was in her arms. She wasn't lying, she would have to move on now. There was no way she was going to risk either of them being found. The thought saddened her, she'd been happy here.
Well, if not happy then content.
Still rocking Warren in her arms, Isobel returned to her bedroom and peered out the window. She spied a huge canine shape making its way towards the Interstate. Isobel could imagine all the talk she would hear tomorrow about some huge animal spied roaming about town.
The shape paused and looked back. A deep baying filled the air, the sound lulled Warren to sleep, a moonlight lullaby.
