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TERRY EVERTON
slipping on a little more than ice and gin marvin came into my room holding a gin bottle and his head. “THIS IS IT GODDAMMIT” he yelled. “I FINALLY HIT ME THE FUCKIN’ JACKPOT!” he shoved the top of his head toward my face and his hair was matted together with dried blood. “I TOLD ‘EM THEY DAMN WELL BETTER START CLEARIN’ THE ICE OFFA THEM GODDAMN STEPS! NOW LOOK -- I BUSTED MY HEAD AN’ THEY’RE GONNA GIT A FUCKIN’ LAWSUIT THAT’S WHAT!” he poured some gin on top of his head hollered “GOD DAMN THAT HURTS LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER” pulled a dried olive out of his pantspocket popped it in his mouth had a good chug of gin and said “NOW THAT’S A MARTINI GODDAMMIT!” he offered the bottle to me sans olive and as i was having a drink marvin stood there with blood on his hand asking me if i knew a good lawyer because someone was gonna pay goddammit someone was gonna pay. coming at me heavy as i go to leave a piss i walked out into the hall and found maureen leaning up against the wall upside down. there was a beercan sitting on the floor beside her head and she looked at my ripped socks and said “man oh man this yoga shit’s gonna make a new woman outta me yet.” i took the stairs up to the third floor because that’s where the shitter was and when i walked in leon was on his knees pouring what was left of a bottle of scotch down a urinal. he looked up at me with a hangover in his eyes and said “from now on it’s beer an’ vodka an’ nothin’ else.” i emptied my bladder and left leon there on the floor dry heaving in the direction of the urinal and when i went back downstairs maureen was still there upside down only this time her face was a bright shade of red. she looked at my ripped socks again and asked “how the hell am i supposed to drink my beer like this anyway?” i walked back into my room and went straight for the whiskey cupboard becuase that was the only thing that seemed to make the slightest lick of sense on that particular day. shelved again as the tenure expires you’ve been at this new place for about a month now and one night the manager greets you as you walk in with “we need to have a talk right away.” he invites you to join him at table 36 which is the table he does all of his hiring and firing from. you sit across from him and he looks you in the eye and says “i’ve had four people in the last two days tell me they’ve seen you collecting for drinks and putting the money in the tip jar instead of the register.” you catch a glimpse of your replacement filling out an application at the bar. she’s probably in her mid-thirties divorced with two kids. just like the one you replaced four weeks ago who they fired for drinking on the job. the manager chimes in “i didn’t want to believe them at first you know. but then i had different people watch you and they all said the same thing.” you look down at the silverware in front of you and notice a caked-on piece of dried meat sticking to one of the fork prongs. the manager reaches into his pocket and pulls out your final paycheck. “here. this covers you through yesterday. i can’t tell you how disappointed i am in you.” you stand up stuff the check into your shirtpocket and as you walk past your replacement you lean over and whisper “it’s all yours sweetheart.” as you step out into the parking lot you pass the first customers of the day on their way in beer and tip money jangling away in their pockets. Terry Everton's writings and cartoons have appeared throughout the alternative press for the past 20 years. He is currently the creator of the comic strip christian angst and in charge of wreaking havoc in general. |
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