Showcase Sunday: Two Oldies From My Long Since Forgotten Past
It's Sunday again. I've decided to take part in #Showcase-Sunday to help ease the pain. I spent many years here trying to entertain you fine people. Today I'm presenting two short stories. The first is more of an artistic trip with a twist. The second is a real life story, with a twist. I think these two, though completely unrelated, do a fine job of showcasing my talents. Enough about me though. This is here, to hopefully make you smile, during these darkest of days.
Woke Up Inside of the Darkness Again
So that was nice.
I can't see my hands.
I'm sure this is a coffin; maybe a crate. I'm going to fucking die in here.
How did I get here — what did I do last night?
Did they put me in the trunk of the car? Is this a prank?
This feels like wood. Dammit. The day after I trim my nails. Can't even claw my way out of here.
I give up. I'm going to sleep.
What the fuck was that!
I'm alone. Dreaming. I was dreaming. Why can't this box be a fucking dream...
Let me out!
This isn't funny anymore! Let me out! Let me out!
Let me the fuck out!
Did they bury me...
Let me out!
There's nothing on the other side. I can't be in the ground. Sounds hollow when I kick. Am I talking to myself? I'm talking to myself. I'm going to fucking die. You're going to fucking die! Who me? Yes me! You're fucking dead! I'm dead?
Am I, dead?
It's so hot in here.
I'm Bruce Lee. I can punch my way out of this. I'm Bruce Lee.
Fuck that hurts! Come on Chuck Norris! Ah!
It's broken. I broke my hand. I don't care...
Jackie fucking Chan!
I did it!
Where am I?
I need to get out of here.
So hot. This place is a furnace.
Which way do I go...
So many passages. I'm lost!
Nice doggy! Just stay back! Sit! Sit!
Ha-ha-ha! Don't worry about him! He doesn't bite!
Who — who are you?
The name's Tumcat. You must be the new arrival. Sorry I took so long. I was on lunch break. Was the box nice and cozy?
New arrival? Lunch? Box? What is this place?
Welcome to hell, my friend. I just need you to fill out these forms here. Did you bring your Hellth Card?
My Hellth Card?
You don't have a Hellth Card?
Awe shit! Are you serious? Sasha! Sasha! We got another one with no card!
"Again?!?! That's the third one this week!"
What's your name?
I, uh. I don't really have a name.
Okay then Mr. Noname, there's been a mix up. They sent you to the wrong place. We got a new guy and he keeps fucking up. Probably won't last long. They never do. Anyway, I'll need you to get back inside the box.
Hell policy, man.
For how long?
Shouldn't be more than two weeks.
Yup. Maybe three. Unless you want to stay here? We can arrange that.
No thanks. Pack me up, get me outta here. I've had enough of this place.
Alright, sir! Sorry about all this. Enjoy your trip!
This is where part one ends and part two begins. On to the next story.
There's a Massive Beetle Flying Around the Room and I'm Reminded of Happier Days
Asked the Boss
And it was only my third day on the job.
"Roaches? I thought they were June bugs."
That was my response. The boss gave me the blankest of all stares, then drove away in his fancy truck, with nothing else to say.
My coworker laughed about it for the rest of the day. "June bugs, man! You know he was talking about the other kind of roaches, right?"
"Dude, I know. Don't worry about it," I insisted. "You teach me how to work on these furnaces; I'll teach you how to play dumb."
We made a great team, for many months.
"What the hell happened to my dishwasher?"
Asked the dickhead customer.
How should I know? I was there to work on furnaces, not dishwashers.
The man insisted the dent and scratches weren't there before. He went on to tell me how the dishwasher was only one week old, then his wife enters the home after being away at work and hears the tail end of the conversation.
Up until that point, I had only witnessed such a dramatic reaction to something in movies. Never real life. The door opens, she hears the words 'dishwasher' and 'dent', drops her bags, stands there in the doorway, does the big eyes thing; says nothing. I wanted to help pick her jaw up from the floor but I was afraid she'd slap me if I touched her face without asking first.
I could tell they made a great couple because once she finally mustered up enough courage to speak, she asked me the same damn thing, using the same damn tone.
"What the hell happened to my dishwasher?"
"It's only a week old blah blah blah."
I honestly didn't know. I'm staring at this massive dent on a dishwasher, feeling baffled, yet for some reason they made me feel as if I was caught red-handed doing something I shouldn't be doing.
Then coworker walks into the kitchen with a big smile, of all things. "All done!" We were always happy when it was all done time, until that day. The man got pissy with him and quickly put a stop to that smile. "Do you see what your friend here did to my dishwasher!"
So now there's three people in this kitchen, they're all pissed off with me, and I still don't know how this goddamn dishwasher received such a gnarly beating.
"We better call the boss,"
I said to coworker, and he agreed as I led him outside to the van.
It wasn't time to call the boss though. It was time to get our stories straight.
"Dude," I said. "There are three things that might have happened to that dishwasher."
When I was in the kitchen during the snake incident, you came in and dropped the big hose extension like an asshole so you could run outside and shut the air off. The hose unfurled and made a crashing sound as if it hit something while you were outside, but I didn't see what it hit.
During the snake incident, the air hose was flying all over the place, and that happened in the kitchen, but I had the hose pinned under my knee, which meant only about five feet of the hose was going wild and hitting me in the face as I waited for you to the shut the air off. The dishwasher was about ten feet away from where that all occurred.
These people are trying to scam us so they can get a new dishwasher.
Fun Fact: A snake incident is when the coupling on the high pressure air hose breaks off. When that happens, the air hose flips around and goes crazy as if it's a live snake and someone is playing the pungi. During a few beers after work one day, I suggested to my coworker that we need to use a code word if that happens. He agreed. So, anytime the hose broke, I'd yell, "Snake! Snake! There's a snake!" Customers would freak out but the coworker knew exactly what to do, every time, without hesitation.
Coworker did not like number one because that meant it was his fault. I didn't like number two because that meant it was my fault. We both thought about number three and knew if that were the case, it wouldn't be the first time a customer tried to pin something on us that we had nothing to do with.
Coworker then called the boss and explained these three scenarios quickly to the voicemail because the boss was not answering. I noticed coworker adding in a few more suspicious details to the number one scenario, so as he was distancing himself from any wrongdoing, I went to have a look at the big hose extension he had dropped in the kitchen.
It took about two seconds to notice the white flake of paint on the steel plate that makes up the end of this big hose extension. Noticing that while putting two and two together not only gave me the answers to this problem but also made me feel as if I had been released from prison after twenty years of taking it up the ass.
I taught him well for he nearly fooled the master.
Coworker knew he screwed up and since he kept the truth about the June bugs incident under wraps, I figured I owed him one and wasn't about to say anything that could force him to pay for a new dishwasher.
We both went back inside, explained how we couldn't get a hold of the boss but insisted he'd call them and take any concerns they have seriously. The man of the house then signed the bill which included some fine print stating that by signing this document, the customer was satisfied with everything, while the wife hurried out the door so she could go to the hospital and get back to work. Before she left, I overheard him tell her he'd be playing darts with the guys tonight. Coworker also played darts so the two of them started telling darts stories as I darted outside to sit in the van because I was sick of those people and that house.
Later that Day
It was time to eat.
Coworker and I decided to go to a sports bar because the hotel we were staying at served terrible food and charged nine dollars for one bottle of beer.
The meal was great and since we had nothing else to do, we sat around, drank a few more beers, relaxed, watched hockey. Good times.
On my way back from an adventure to the washroom, I saw a familiar face sitting at the bar. It was him, the man of the house, sitting with his wife. They appeared to be happy, having fun, so that was a good sign.
I sat down and said, "Look who it is," as I pointed the coworkers gaze towards their general direction. He had a laugh and said, "Oh shit! I hope they don't see us."
I had a good buzz going though, was feeling talkative, and my beer was empty so I approached the bar to order another. I stood right next to the man, then pretended to notice him for the first time.
"Oh, hey! Did my boss get a hold of you?" The man was slightly stunned and responded with, "No, not yet." Then I said, "Well, he has your wife's number as well," as I looked at her, and that's when I noticed the woman sitting next to him wasn't his wife.
She nearly choked on her drink when I said 'wife'. "You're married," she asked him. He says, "No, I was at my sister's place today while she was at work because this gentleman here had an appointment to look at her furnace."
No, that was your wife. She called you, honey.
"Oh! I'm sorry. That was your sister? I thought I could see the resemblance," I said, as I played dumb so this dude wouldn't be in trouble with his other wife.
I didn't feel like sticking around after that awkwardness, so I went back to sit down with coworker and told him everything. We were pissing ourselves laughing, making sick jokes like, "I know where he's sticking his dart tonight!"
Then we were interrupted by the waitress. She places two beers on the table along with a note and says, "This is from the gentleman sitting at the bar."
I read the note.
Don't worry about the dishwasher.
With a big smile on my face, I passed the paper over to coworker and said, "Dude. This note is for you."
Ends the story of a memory.