127 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
127 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
Cola Presents:
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Hydroplane
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Sean woke five minutes late for work, feeling just as tired as when he had
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gone to bed. 11:05. Five minutes late. Slept for sixteen hours, and still
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tired. He stared at the lights on the clock for a couple of minutes. 11:07.
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At night. He got up, and rummaged arround the pile of clothes in his room
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for his uniform. The light blue uniform was still stained with grease from
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the night before, and reeked of sweat. He put it on, and left for work. He
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had forgotten his nametag and hat, but it didn't matter.
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The bike there was easy. Ten minutes max.
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Sixteen hours and not a single dream.
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Sixteen hours and still tired.
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Damn.
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The doors were locked, but the closing crew let him in. His boss looked at
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him, but didn't say anything. It wasn't worth getting mad. They needed him,
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and he would just say that he slept in, anyways.
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Sean filled his mop bucket and went directly to the womens washroom. Noone
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ever came in the womens washroom at night, and it was a good place to hide
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from the drunks outside. He sat on the counter. It was Friday. Second day of
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the week. Saturday would be the worst. They stayed open till twelve on
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saturday, so he had to do actual work, which meant avoiding the drunks. The
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hardest part of the job were the people who wanted in after hours. If he let
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them in, he'd get shouted at by his boss, but they wouldn't go away. The only
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solution was to watch for them, then hide in the washrooms untill they left.
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He threw some water on the floor. Insurance. If anyone did come in, they'd
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see that he was mopping the floor.
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On monday his girlfriend had told him something he didn't want to know.
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He should have been angry. Why wasn't he angry?
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He had played the part. Acted shocked, hurt.
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Why wasn't he angry? Why wasn't he angry?
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A while later, Sean went outside to the dining area, and started puttting
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chairs on the table. He was so tired. The light from the parking lot made
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the plants outside seem glossy. He got a broom and started sweeeping. If you
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didn't do a good job sweeping, then the mop later looked horrible. You had
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to get all of the corners, under all of the tables, and those damn chairs
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that are fixed in place on posts. The wheels on the childrens seats allways
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made lines of dirt on the floor, so he moved tose somewhere else. His whole
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body was slow. He was exausted, allways exausted. Coffee had stopped helping
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a couple weeks ago.
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Why wasn't he angry?
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Mopping was easy. Two passes, no thinking. The first pass made the dirt show
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up, the second sopped up the water. He couldn't ever make the floors clean.
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They were allways dirty. The manager had left without saying anything. He
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checked the time. Twelve fourty-seven. The shake machine went on "reheat" at
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one. He poured himself a shake for later and stored it in the mini-fridge.
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He went back to mopping. Moving the Ronald McDonald statue was allways a
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problem. The foam base was infested with mold, and so it made a huge green
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circle wherever you put it. He didn't bother. It didn't matter.
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The kitchen allways needed three or four pases because it was so greasy. The
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kitchen was allways covered with grease; the deep fryers sent off a mist of
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grease. The best you could do was clean off most of the grease and buff the
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rest. You could never get it off. Even after a shower it was still there.
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His favorite job was cleaning the fry dispenser. Sean could never understand
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how it managed to get so much gease on it. Every surface was covered by a
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centimeter of grease, but all it ever held were potatoes, and even then, the
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potatoes weren't heated. For some reason cleaning the fry dispesnser allways
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gave him a bit more energy.
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Sean had nothing else to do until the manager showed up in the morning. You
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could never clean everything because then the manager would see that you
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didn't have enough work. It was Three, so he had three hours. Initially, he
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had tried to talk to the permanant maintenance people, but they were all
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immigrants from India who could speak at best broken english. The old man
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was on tonight, and he made even less sense than the rest.
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TeleToon used to play South Park at Three, but they had stopped a couple of
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weeks ago. Sean settled on an info-mertial of some guy selling Beanie Babies.
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Apparently some Beanie Babies were really expensive. Sean didn't pay
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attention. He was too numb. He just sat.
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At ten to six, Sean started cleaning off the tables. The manager showed up a
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few minutes later. Sean took out the garbage, and spent the next half-hour
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looking busy. He left fifteen minutes early.
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Sean went to bed. He had taped peices of cardboard to his windows to keep
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the sunlight out because it was keeping him up. Saturday would be hell.
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Why wasn't he angry?
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Sixteen hours and not a single dream.
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By Zarathustra
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Props: Textfile.com (Keep the faith)
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CDC (Dem0nSeed Elite r0ckz!)
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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_______
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/ \ "KEEP THAT BITTERNEESS CLOSE TO THE HEART"
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| ___ ____
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| / \ | / \ / \ \ /
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| | | | /_____\ | \ /
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| \ __/ |____ / \ . \____/ / \
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\______/ I GOT PIMPED AT COLA.CX / \
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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COPYRIGHT MARCH 11, 2000 BY COLA CONTACT: COLA@COLA.CX
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THIS FILE MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREELY, AS LONG AS IT IS NOT MODIFIED.
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