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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #991666
..........
He sat there. All alone. Just a figure that was slowly becoming
a piece of familiarity, along with the cheap booze, and cigarettes.
Shit. He'd even turned off the radio, seeing as how he'd already
heard the same song, at least three times over. There was absolutely
nothing to do, and he thought about this as he let a book of matches
dance from hand to hand.

Granted, he'd only been there for 6 hours, but it felt like
forever. Every hour seemed to stretch, more and more.

(...why not give her another call...? She's bound to pick up this time...)

His fingers dialed the number, with quickness and practiced
dexterity....and he waited.

"Hi everyone! This is Nicky..." He loved the sound of her voice, and
he told her this often. "...leave me a message, and I'll get back
with you as soon as possible!"

BEEEEP

...click....

It didn't even fucking ring. Not even once.

(...dont' even waste your time, dipshit. She turned it off. She
didn't want to talk to you, kid...)

(...yeah...well....fuck.)

He whips out a piece of paper, and starts to write things
down...random things at first, slowly realizing his words and phrases
into a more...centralized theme.

'...you're worthless, waste, nobody cares, nobody loves you - not a
stupid little shit like you. nothing...'

These words, and others, seem to grow across the page, in various
handwritings, scripts, forms...

His register beeps, and he activates the gas
pump....waits...writing, almost laying on the paper as he does....the
register beeps again, and the customer makes his way toward the store,
surly, and most definately ugly.

"Evening! How're you doing tonight?"

It was a controlled greeting, one more out of habit than out of
courtesy. Besides, what customer wouldn't shine to a polite cashier?
As he speaks, he flips his paper over, to keep the man from reading
it.

The man looks to the kid behind the counter.

"10.62, on the pump. Box of Lights, hun'reds...menthol."

(...of course. What'd he expect? A polite reply? Yeah, right.
Not in this shithole...)

He grabs for the cigarettes, and tosses them carefully on the
counter..they slide to the man's hand while the cashier's free hand
punch in some keys on the register, quickly.

"Anything else, sir?" He smiles in a friendly fashion.

"Mnnnnrph." (translated: No.)

"That'll be $15.32, sir..." And, with that, some money is thrown
down on the counter...two coins bounce out, toward the edge, and fall
over...but....they're caught by quick hands. This happens all too
often, and he's gotten quite good at not letting things hit the
floor..

"Out of $15.50.....18 cents is your change..."

But the man was already walking out the door by then.

"You have a good night, then!" the cashier calls out...and the
door shuts in response.

(..fucking asshole...)

He brings his paper back out, and continues his self degradation.

(...fucking stupid, ugly....fake....stop lying to yourself...)

Bipbip!

Looking to his watch....5:00am. He should start counting
cigarettes. Out comes the inventory sheet, and he makes a few quick,
subtle changes...then sets the paper down, and picks up his written
ramblings.

He shows no emotion as he reads the words, to himself, over and
over again silently. He doesn't even carry a hitch to his
breath...and just stares with a blank, stoic face.

...picks up the phone and quickly dials her number again, with
practiced ease....he turns the speakerphone on, and sets the phone
down.

RRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNG!

It rings once.

He turns the volume on the PA system all the way up, flipping all
the speaker switches...inside, outside, then tapes a quarter to the
"Push to Talk" button. The store, even the outside area, blares with
each of his movements, acute microphones picking up on every sound in
the building. Authorizes every pump, prepaid, $650.00, cash....

RRRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGG!

It rings twice, and he walks outside, and picks up the handle to
a gas pump...he squeezes the pump handle, and sets the small arm down,
to let it pump automatically.... Gas starts to pour out, quickly, and
it soaks a pant leg as he lets it fall to the ground....

RRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNG....
.....click.....

"Hi everyone! This is Nicky..."

God, he loved her voice....

"...leave me a message, and I'll..."

He strikes a match....

- END -
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