Working Class Hero
Hello!
It's 6:00 PM on a Tuesday, and I'm in my fuckin' pajamas. Ain't nothin' gettin' me outta these badboys unless it's somethin' completely ace.
My PS3 is busted. The drive won't read anything anymore. Gotta send it back to Sony for a fixin'. Lovin' those n's with apostrophes tonight.
I picked up a second job today, perhaps. I'm heading to Benji's Cafe on Saturday morning to try my hand at cook duties, working with Harold (who runs the joint alongside his wife Betty). One of those "try it out, see how it works" type of situations. Should be fun! I work for four hours, and I'm unfortunately starting at minimum wage... buuuuuuut, it could be excellent. Maybe I'll even impress them so greatly with my culinary skills that they offer me dollars upon dollars of raises within my first week.
Or, I spill hot oil all over Harold's legs, and he's confined to a wheelchair for six months. It's not that he wants to be in the chair, it's just that it hurts so much to move his legs even the slightest bit. So, there he is - strapped to a chair so his legs don't move, slowly they atrophy. The sagging muscles in his legs match only the sagging corners of his mouth - used to welcome you with a friendly smile, now they drive you away with a heart-wrenching frown. He quickly realizes that he can't continue his cooking duties from the chair since he's sitting at too low a level to do much of anything in the kitchen. They hire other cooks, but none of them seem to be able to keep the same pace and work ethic that he once had. Cooking drags to a near halt. Business slows. Bills pile up. Foreclosure. Bankruptcy. Repossession.
I really hope it turns out the first way and not the second.
It's 6:00 PM on a Tuesday, and I'm in my fuckin' pajamas. Ain't nothin' gettin' me outta these badboys unless it's somethin' completely ace.
My PS3 is busted. The drive won't read anything anymore. Gotta send it back to Sony for a fixin'. Lovin' those n's with apostrophes tonight.
I picked up a second job today, perhaps. I'm heading to Benji's Cafe on Saturday morning to try my hand at cook duties, working with Harold (who runs the joint alongside his wife Betty). One of those "try it out, see how it works" type of situations. Should be fun! I work for four hours, and I'm unfortunately starting at minimum wage... buuuuuuut, it could be excellent. Maybe I'll even impress them so greatly with my culinary skills that they offer me dollars upon dollars of raises within my first week.
Or, I spill hot oil all over Harold's legs, and he's confined to a wheelchair for six months. It's not that he wants to be in the chair, it's just that it hurts so much to move his legs even the slightest bit. So, there he is - strapped to a chair so his legs don't move, slowly they atrophy. The sagging muscles in his legs match only the sagging corners of his mouth - used to welcome you with a friendly smile, now they drive you away with a heart-wrenching frown. He quickly realizes that he can't continue his cooking duties from the chair since he's sitting at too low a level to do much of anything in the kitchen. They hire other cooks, but none of them seem to be able to keep the same pace and work ethic that he once had. Cooking drags to a near halt. Business slows. Bills pile up. Foreclosure. Bankruptcy. Repossession.
I really hope it turns out the first way and not the second.