the store

by fred flynn

you will eat in the cafeteria, the same cafeteria as the customers. of course. what is on the menu today? hot dogs, same as any other day, and chili dogs on sunday. how many do i get? it depends on how much you sell. read the contract. i will. but right now i need a nap. all right. but be ready to work as soon as you wake up. the employees dormitory was, naturally, in the middle of the store, along with the cafeteria and the human resources department. when htd-45 woke up, he had trouble getting his socks on his feet. he went outside the store to give himself more room. but he had more and more trouble getting the socks on, and drifted further and further away from the store, and found himself in an abandoned part of the city with empty buildings and cracked sidewalks. somehow he finally got his socks and shoes on and made it back to the store. but the day was already half gone and he had not made a single sale. in the store, employees did not stand behind a counter and wait for customers to select items themselves and bring them to the counter for purchase. the employees circulated among the customers and encouraged them to buy the items on the shelves. the employees then received points based on the number and value of the purchased items. htd-45 was not very good at this. that shoehorn is one of our best items, madam. i don’t wear shoes. this set of colored balloons is perfect for all occasions, but especially office parties. i don’t work in an office. everybody should own one of these back scratchers. they are the talk of the town. i am not everybody. and so forth. how did i ever come to this? htd-45 thought despairingly. is this my destiny? suddenly he woke up. what a strange dream! he was not a clerk in some strange store in a distant dimension - he was an adjunct professor of ninth generation marxism at the university of a————. he had fallen asleep at his desk in his office , and his devoted students were waiting in classroom 75. he got up hurriedly and gathered his notes together. his trailing tendrils almost got caught in the door as he exited into the corridor.

christmas card

by bofa xesjum

my life needs more variety, alexander mused thoughtfully bugs have variety, billy replied tartly. food is consciousness, christopher interrupted rudely. my dreams are stupid, d b thought sadly, but did not say so out loud. alexander, billy, christopher and d b were floating down the river on a raft after the complete destruction of civilization. they had vague memories of how they had come to be on the raft, and had never known each other before being on the raft. how did we get here anyway, billy blurted out. it s a long story, alexander assured him. we have nothing but time, christopher added. on the contrary, d b declared, we have a very limited time before we die of hunger and thirst and privation. silence settled over the raft, broken only by the sound of the sloshing of the water over the side of the raft. i wish we knew who to blame for this situation, alexander finally said. it was all the fault of that jackass ed brown , billy asserted confidently. no, it was frank gray - he started it all, christopher retorted. look out, said d b, here comes grover. grover came through the door, and the wind and rain followed him. have any of you bums seen harry ? grover demanded, striding boldly up to the foursome’s table. the table was littered with styrofoam cups with the letter i printed on them boldly in red. no, alexander said meekly, none of us have seen him since christmas. and he did not even give us any presents, billy added. or even a christmas card, christopher put in. how about you, grover addressed d b, have you seen him lately? not lately. how would you define lately, grover pressed on. we are in for it now, alexander mused sadly. the door opened again, and commissioner johnson entered, brushing snow from the front of his camelshair coat. stop pussyfooting around, he told grover, bring all these clowns down to the waterfront. you heard the commisioner, grover asserted. on your feet. can i finish my coffee? christopher pleaded. no. outside, the night was rent with the banshee wail of sirens. after they had all left, dr kendrick, seated in the corner, finished his coffee and rolled his napkin into a ball. my work here is done, he thought.

exit 4-b

by bofa xesjum

the car turned on to the highway. oliver had left his life behind in the street. as a boy he had loved the rain, especially on saturdays. he hated his dad’s car - a crummy green volkswagen like a hippie girl might drive. he wanted to leave his old life behind. and find a new life on the broad highway. the clouds in the sky made hm think of love. eventually night would fall. he felt he was born to love. even on a cloudy day. he knew there were no hitchhikers any more, but still he dreamed - before he got to exit 4b, it started to rain. oliver’s first girl was a terrible person, and had taught him to hate life. her name was rita cloudsley. why aren’t you a professional hit man,she would say in her lazy way on rainy afternoons. don’t you have any guts? don’t you want to get revenge on this stinking world? oliver was never sure if she was serious. there isn’t any real money in it,he would say. ha! what do you know? then rita’s mom would come home from her shift at applebee’s and they would talk about tv shows and movies, until it was time for oliver to go home and make dinner for his younger brother and two sisters. the rain started falling harder as he approached exit 4b. he saw a person standing by the side of the road. could it be, he thought…

it was the time

by bofa xesjum

it was the time of year when a person went their way to do things. a man in the world has a life in his hand but part of him was a child. he had his eye on a woman in the place of work. a week went by and the case had a point. the government seized the company and a number of groups had a problem. the facts were an animal. if you have to be, do what you say. get it to make go, because you know what it takes come and see me some time. think it looks, if you want to give. use it if you can find it, but tell, don’t ask. it works if it seems to feel. leave a cry but don’t call it good. it was new the first time. but it lasts long so great. with a little of its own other. the old is right but the big is high. the different is small but large. next it will be early but young. it is important for the few to be public . but it is bad for the same to be able. this is what it all comes to. a piece of cake, or a big lump of nothing. and it all gets written in the book. nobody knows what it is for. but the show must go on.