Stressity-stress and a little drabblity-drabble.
I can't fucking wait for this other restaurant to reopen. If anyone has done the fast food management thing -you get it. I'm sick of taking care of someone else's crew and being told the only reason we're running a 41% sales increase for the month is because we're taking on all of their business. I'm sick of their crew saying it, I'm sick of my bosses saying it, I'm sick of the fucking CUSTOMERS saying it. I'm sick of busting my balls every day for the past two and a half months while, for varying reasons, every other salaried manager besides Zach and myself is working less and less as the weeks go on. Come on. If you're being paid nearly $60K a year, you should be doing more than cleaning equipment and doing lunch runs for the construction workers. We're draining away so much money in paying all of these effing people and in food costs, we're going to have a horrible profit for last month and this month. I'm not a moron, I know this is a business and it all comes down to profit but I'm just so tired of this all. I can't wait for October first.
Spent last night on the computer trying to get something rolling, and I have about 700 words of a little story and I banged out this potentionally crappy "drabble." I use quote marks because I edited and edited and EDITED and am still 11 words over 100. So, 111. Yeah. Read if you'd like. Don't if you don't. It's a little, what happened between the time the djinn touched Dean and he woke up in that other reality thing. Kind of an extended thought I had after that challenge fic. Premise: The djinn didn't have to speak to communicate.
Between the Lines
It wasn’t seamless. First the lights went out.
Then the voice came.
Hello, Dean.
It wasn’t English but he understood it. What do you want?
What do YOU want?
I want you to get your grody demonic hands the hell off me.
I’m more powerful than a demon, Dean.
I’m happy for you. Now get the hell off.
A laugh echoed all around him, source unseen.
Always trying to make Dad proud.
A chill ran up Dean’s spine. At least, he thought it did.
Always trying to keep Sammy happy.
But what about you? What do you
Really
WANT?
Mom. Unwillingly, the thought crept in.
And the lightning started to flash.
Spent last night on the computer trying to get something rolling, and I have about 700 words of a little story and I banged out this potentionally crappy "drabble." I use quote marks because I edited and edited and EDITED and am still 11 words over 100. So, 111. Yeah. Read if you'd like. Don't if you don't. It's a little, what happened between the time the djinn touched Dean and he woke up in that other reality thing. Kind of an extended thought I had after that challenge fic. Premise: The djinn didn't have to speak to communicate.
Between the Lines
It wasn’t seamless. First the lights went out.
Then the voice came.
Hello, Dean.
It wasn’t English but he understood it. What do you want?
What do YOU want?
I want you to get your grody demonic hands the hell off me.
I’m more powerful than a demon, Dean.
I’m happy for you. Now get the hell off.
A laugh echoed all around him, source unseen.
Always trying to make Dad proud.
A chill ran up Dean’s spine. At least, he thought it did.
Always trying to keep Sammy happy.
But what about you? What do you
Really
WANT?
Mom. Unwillingly, the thought crept in.
And the lightning started to flash.