its about that time.
Breaks don't come easily. You don't wake up every morning and expect to find your desires on your doorstep, right next to your paper. The same paper that still comes despite the fact that the only use you have for it is remembering what day it is. Or what month it is. Riley believed that. When he opened the door that afternoon, despite still reeking of alcohol-induced vomit, he saw it. He knew this was his break. He also knew that if he failed, he was going to die. But he wouldn't be going out alone.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
April 12th, 2005
16:31:04 - He arrives at Wal-Mart. Has a few odds and ends to pick up.
16:35:23 - Picks up a plunger. A really good, sturdy plunger.
16:42:17 - Gets a black shower curtain. Puts it into the black trash can he grabbed a few minutes ago.
16:47:18 - Glances over the shampoo aisle. He has no idea what he wants.
16:55:44 - Still looking at the shampoo aisle.
16:58:38 - While looking over a certain product, a mexican man and his extremely old, tattered wife walk in front of him with their buggy. The stop right in front of where he is looking. They don't say excuse me, or even acknowledge his presence. He doesn't know what excuse me is in the spanish language, but he knows that its beyond that now. They begin chatting at the speed of light about shampoo he can only guess, all the while still ignoring him, and the fact that they are totally blocking his view.
17:03:32 - The mexican couple are still going on about something. But, since they have been blocking his view, he can only glance over the items in their buggy which is still tottaly in his fucking way. He notices some ground beef. Cheese. Some flour tortillas. God this is so fucking stereotypical he thinks. Produce bags full of vegetables. Looks to be various peppers and tomatoes. They still haven't noticed him. Jesus, cut this guy a break please.
17:04:55 - It seems they have finally come to a decision on some shampoo. He turns around, picks a random shampoo off the opposite shelf, and then storms off to the fucking household cleaners aisle. Various slurs are mumbled under his breath. He seems on edge. Quite possibly about to snap. Other shoppers who notice the far-away look in his eyes shield their children from the handle of his plunger.
17:09:23 - He picks up the biggest bottle of Drain-O he can find. Fuck that dog and his shedding. Fuck that dog. Fuck his little doggie hair for clogging up the bathtub drain. Also fuck the fact that he already solved this draining problem weeks ago. Really fuck the fact that he got way to drunk off straight Amaretto shots and threw up Chinese all in the bathtub. Fuck the toilet for being 3 feet away. Fuck the Amaretto and fuck the Chinese. Fuck it.
17:14:32 - The self checkout voice is screaming at him. He wildly waves his plunger at it. It will not shut the fuck up.
17:17:17 - It beings pouring rain as he exits Wal-Mart. He looks up, once again realizes God hates him, and walks to his car. As he is walking, another mexican shatters a lightbulb in the parking lot. He smiles. And he doesn't smile. He just hates.
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posted by crimson @ 7:54 PM 
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