further into the fog i fall...

by the time i leave for work, it is dark, and a heavy mist has settled over the land, blurring lights and making edges fuzzy.

i walk through the door of work, and as my dopey manager informs me i am routed and that i am one of four drivers for the whole evening, i idly wonder what gunpowder tastes like and would the flavor arrive at my brain before the bullet.

i go to find a uniform shirt, and discover that someone forgot to start the dryer, and the only clean shirts are the ones left by an ex-manager who was like a shrinky-dink version of a person. like someone took a regular-sized human being, colored her in, and popped her in the oven for some time. needless to say, there was a snowball's chance i was going to ever get myself into one of them, let alone be able to move afterwords.

so i set out clad in my uniform hat, my khakis, and my clockwork orange t-shirt. little alex, bowler on, fake eyelashes aglow, evil sneer intensified, emblazoned across my chest. i thank whoever is running the show upstairs i didn't wear my nobody cares: now get the fuck away from me t-shirt, on which i had actually paused when picking out something to wear to work.

another employee sarcastically says, "buckle up and drive safe." as i zip out the door with my pies. i reply back, "sod that! i am going to find the nearest fucking telephone pole."

(as an aside, i cracked up a customer on my way out the door recently, as everyone called out the requisite "buckle up and drive safe" and i hollered back, "the more i work here, the less i wanna.")

and into the haze.

i am as melancholy as the opening piano notes of alkaline trio's time to waste, as angry as the bassline to low pop suicide's disengaged, as irritated as chino's vocals on deftone's be quiet and drive as he strips his vocal chords out screaming "i don't care where, just far"

at the tail-end of a ridiculously late, convoluted trip to drop off more than my normal fair share of pizzas, i find myself on a side road in one of the ritzier neighborhoods of our area.

i apologize for the lateness of the pizza, and jokingly tell the customer that i will look at her credit card since she went to the trouble of getting it, but that mostly i don't really care. she laughs and says that any time she doesn't get it, the driver wants to see it. i refer to myself as a "less-than stellar employee" and she laughs.

i feel better.

the street is quiet and dark except the dim glow of porchlights and multihued christmas lights, rubbed soft like pastels by the thick fog. i stand by my car a moment, breathing deep the moist, crisp air. i think about the last customer's laugh, and smile despite myself.

i think i should hurry and get back. then i think, nah, this is nice. everyone is inside, silence prevails, the soft lights alleviate the dark just enough, the air bites my lungs.

i lean against my car, and smile, and watch my breath come in puffs of steam that twist, bend, and fade away into the mists.

after but a few moments, i reenter my car, take the long way back to work, and continue what ends up being a long and aggravating night.

darth sardonic