Wish List: I once worked with a tall drink of water named Christopher J. McSpinch. I’ll always remember that unusual name. He was a nice, polite guy and I liked him. We worked for a company called Intelillink Communications. Don’t bother looking it up, it’s long gone. It was merged into oblivion. My duties includedContinue reading “Heaven Always Has Room”
Tag Archives: work
“Joe Here.”
“Joe here,” was the way Joe answered the phone when he was behind his desk at the law offices of Sobchak & Sobchak. “Joe here,” he’d say. Every single time. He never juggled anything up. He was staid and steadfast when it came to telephone etiquette. Joe never flirted with variety. His delivery was deadpan, allContinue reading ““Joe Here.””
A Bruised Ego
Ted Hanscomb hadn’t been feeling so great lately. Loneliness and the weight of age were pressing down on him like a device in a dungeon. When he awoke in the afternoon (he worked third shift) the encroaching day felt drastic in some vague way. Like a last chance at something. His repetitive daily schedule wasContinue reading “A Bruised Ego”
Synaptic Damage
He was abrupt. With people. Many people disliked him because he was so abrupt. He answered questions with a hatchet. He urged you to stop wasting his time. His name was Karl Jerome Baumgarten and he was eighty-three years old and worked as a greeter at the Granville Busy-Mart. He was abrupt with the customers. Continue reading “Synaptic Damage”
The Job Interview
I’m nervous at a job interview, desperate to make a good impression. I really need the gig. My bank account has been wilting like a weed during a drought. The office is spare, stark, and cold. There’s nothing on the walls but beige paint. The Hiring Manager’s heavy mahogany desk stretches empty before him, aContinue reading “The Job Interview”
Link Day One
At around ten thirty Link went ahead and lit a new cigarette. He could only smoke in the house after his grandmother went to bed. She went to bed every night at precisely nine o’clock and that’s when Link could smoke in the house. At nine o’clock Link could also watch his porn on theContinue reading “Link Day One”
The Inappropriate Laughter of Monkeys
Bowing monkeyward, as he does every morning, Caleb Strepthroat, a porcine conundrum with thick yet opaque features that avoid reliable description (bean & bacon soup and a whiskey sour being the meal that comes closest to describing his icy heartfelt Meg Foster eyes), feels a sharp ping of gristle pop in his gut and hisContinue reading “The Inappropriate Laughter of Monkeys”
Crumbling Asphalt 