» Tue Nov 09, 2010 7:47 am "Thomas," came bellowing from a scrawny man in his late-teens, "Don't let your eyes of the burgers!"
And there stood Thomas Monroe, a man of 23, still working at a Dot's Diner and living at his parents.
"Sure thing, John," He said with mock-loyalty, "You're not doing anything, why don't you do it." He said under his breath.
Thomas had been working at the Diner for five years, where as others had more predominant jobs. Most of friends had left the town of Bakersfield, and onto greener pastures. Thomas could not leave, as he was held back, be it poor economy caused by the war over in Alaska, or his own issues at being inept. It wasn't for a lack of trying though, he wanted to make something of himself, it was just, you know, hard. Living with his parents had lifted some stress off him, not worrying about rent or bills. That's not to say they didn't think it was too great.
"Thomas! What did I say, you've burnt the burgers, fourth time this week, dammit!" Shouted John, flailing his arms about in a trying-to-be-tough manner. Thomas rolled his eyes, making sure John didn't see him.
"I'm sorry, I'll try harder next time." He said, with some remorse.
"Nope, they're won't be a next time. You're fired!" John exclaimed, heading into his office for a second, coming back out handing Thomas an envelope.
"What's this?" He questioned, taking the envelope, and opening it.
"Your last paycheck. I guess you'll have to make it last, hehehe." John said, snidely.
Thomas read the piece of mint-green tint paper. It said, to Thomas' dismay, $41.53.
"42 dollars. I worked more hours than that." He proclaimed.
"Oh, well, I had to dock the burgers you burnt, and then some personal damage incurred upon me..." John said, with a sly grin.
"Whatever. Have fun being assistant night manager." Thomas said, leaving out the front doors.
As he walked over to his Corvega, he caught a glimpse of the local doomsayer, complete with 'the end is nigh' full body sign. scoffing, he hopped into his car. Lighting a cigarette, he looked over at the clock. 10:32. He usually get out of work at 12 o'clock or so, but not tonight, obviously. He'd have to explain this to his parents, think over his speech as he drove home.
'I knew I should have joined the army, coulda' fought some commies' he thought to himself, 'could've been a general or something...'
As he parked his car in the driveway, he noticed that the house was darkened and his parents were asleep. As he tried sneaking in, the front door squeaked as if it had rusted away long ago. He made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, which was lit dimly so he could just barely make names. He grabbed what he hoped was Orange Juice. Taking a swig he looked over at the calender. Below the war propaganda was the actual important stuff. Tomorrow was October 23rd. Looking at the date, he made a promise to himself, a promise he was absolutely was determined to keep...
Tomorrow would be different.
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If it seemed boring, that's how it was supposed to be, as it starts pre-war. some read up and critique out.
