LJI Week 7: Feckless
"Frankly, Scarlett, I don't give a feck."
I'm not sure if it was the long eyelashes, the wry grin, or the Irish accent that kept me from firing him. Or the fact that he could stand out front, cheap cigarette dangling from his lips on his 14th smoke break on a six hour shift, that seemed to bring in the customers.
Okay, the women. But customers are customers, and if women who like bad boys with impossibly green eyes buy cupcakes, who am I to argue?
"Feck" was his curse word of choice. The Other F Word was a sin, and he was too good a Catholic boy to use THAT.
It became a game to replace other swear words in movie quotes. He was working his way through "American movies" and you never realize how many famous quotes can be changed by one single word.
Kind of like life.
Just one word....and the world stops. You forget how to breathe. You know what you are supposed to do, but your chest is tight and light seems too bright and you're really going to have to do this.
"This isn't working. I'm going to have to let you go."
I close my eyes so I don't get a last glimpse of him walking out the door. But I can't un-hear him muttering "Well, FUCK."
And suddenly...I'm feckless. In every sense of the word.
I'm not sure if it was the long eyelashes, the wry grin, or the Irish accent that kept me from firing him. Or the fact that he could stand out front, cheap cigarette dangling from his lips on his 14th smoke break on a six hour shift, that seemed to bring in the customers.
Okay, the women. But customers are customers, and if women who like bad boys with impossibly green eyes buy cupcakes, who am I to argue?
"Feck" was his curse word of choice. The Other F Word was a sin, and he was too good a Catholic boy to use THAT.
It became a game to replace other swear words in movie quotes. He was working his way through "American movies" and you never realize how many famous quotes can be changed by one single word.
Kind of like life.
Just one word....and the world stops. You forget how to breathe. You know what you are supposed to do, but your chest is tight and light seems too bright and you're really going to have to do this.
"This isn't working. I'm going to have to let you go."
I close my eyes so I don't get a last glimpse of him walking out the door. But I can't un-hear him muttering "Well, FUCK."
And suddenly...I'm feckless. In every sense of the word.