Post by ocwnewsline on Jun 14, 2016 11:43:51 GMT -5
I knew a man named Alan once. He was a horrid, obese fellow who posed as a bodyguard for a while, long enough to enjoy the lifestyle of a roadie…at my expense.
He would drink and eat whatever was placed in front of him. As time passed on, he grew bolder, eating and drinking items that weren’t placed in front of him.
Ultimately, his end came during a trip through New Mexico. There was a local taco stand that served the best quesadillas. I indulged in a plate for dinner and took one to go for later that evening. You know…to satisfy the drunken munchies. I was really excited as I placed the Styrofoam container on the middle shelf of the fridge.
I guess I should have hidden it. But I didn’t really think it would matter. As long as ‘JB’ were written on the box, nobody dared touch it.
So, around two in the morning, several beers deep, my stomach craved the quesadillas. I stumbled for the fridge. The lady I was wooing had already been sold on their greasy goodness. The fridge door stabilized my balance as I pulled back. There it was…my container. I couldn’t wait to open it.
I popped the lid open and…
IT WAS FUCKING EMPTY!!
I stormed through our bus looking for Alan. I knew it was him, it had to be.
I found him on my bed, in the back, watching television as though he owned the fucking place. There were fresh grease stains on his shirt and a satisfaction across his face that revealed the truth.
“Did you eat my fucking quesadillas?” I asked.
“What’s that, Jimmy?”
He was trying to fuck with me. “I see grease stains on your shirt, Al.”
“Oh,” he looked down, “yea, that’s from, umm, something else.”
He was a shit liar. We pulled over somewhere near the New Mexico/Texas border. I kicked him to the curb, handing him his bag of clothes, a bottle of water and, of course, the empty Styrofoam container.
“But, Jimmy!” he pleaded.
“No!” I held my hand up, silencing him. “It would have been one thing if you had merely eaten the quesadillas.” I gathered myself, “But you…YOU not only ate them…but you had the audacity to return the empty container inside the fridge!”
“Uhh…” he looked around
“The excitement I had upon seeing that container. The anticipation as I opened it. Only to be followed imminently by emptiness.” I looked at the ground, almost tearing up. “It’s a tragedy this tour bus won’t soon forget.”
“Jimmy, man, even though I didn’t eat them, I’ll pay you back. There’s a Taco Bell a few miles…”
I lunged forward and kicked him in the face. “Fucking Taco Bell? Get out of my face with that shit!” I then whistled to the driver and we pulled away. Alan and his busted lip looked on from the side of the road belonging to a desolate interstate in who gives a fuck New Mexico.
That was the only Alan I had ever known.
So, I was highly suspicious when this Alan approached me, ready to take his interview. I wasn’t sure how his first name had eluded my filtration system. I had never wanted to hire another Alan so long as I was in a position to hire people with names.
He approached shirtless, wearing swim trunks. It was obvious he was a model…his upper body was shredded to perfection. I felt kinda gay thinking that.
“Mr. Bailey,” I initiated the conversation for some reason.
“Jimmy! Hey, man, great to meet ya!” he said in a casual manner. He talked as though we had been buddies.
“Take a seat,” I said instinctively. There was no chair, so he just plopped down on the sand and relaxed on his side. I had to slide my chair back and look under the table to keep eye contact with the guy.
“Thanks, this sand is real comfortable, I love the beach.”
“Sure, so, about the position…”
“Yea, about that,” he pinched some sand and blew it into the air. Wiping his hands, he smiled, “I’m not really interested. I just showed up for the free trip to the beach.”
“Uhh, really?”
“Yea, I love the beach, when you’ve got a body like this you flaunt it as much as possible.”
I started to grumble. “Women out here are pretty frisky too…started off slow, the only girl I hooked up with the first few days was that Rold girl…” he looked around in confusion. “Say!” an imaginary light bulb flashed over his head, “isn’t she interviewing for this job as well?”
Emma Rold was turning into quite the slut. “I believe so, yes.”
“Sweet, small world.”
“Well, we are on an island.”
“Haha, good one, Jimmy!” He hopped to his feet and eyed the coast. “Think I’m gonna go for a swim, maybe we can grab some drinks after?”
Before I could answer, he was sprinting toward the clear, blue water.
“Well, that was a waste of time.”
I crossed his name off the list, leaving one name remaining. The process neared its end.
He would drink and eat whatever was placed in front of him. As time passed on, he grew bolder, eating and drinking items that weren’t placed in front of him.
Ultimately, his end came during a trip through New Mexico. There was a local taco stand that served the best quesadillas. I indulged in a plate for dinner and took one to go for later that evening. You know…to satisfy the drunken munchies. I was really excited as I placed the Styrofoam container on the middle shelf of the fridge.
I guess I should have hidden it. But I didn’t really think it would matter. As long as ‘JB’ were written on the box, nobody dared touch it.
So, around two in the morning, several beers deep, my stomach craved the quesadillas. I stumbled for the fridge. The lady I was wooing had already been sold on their greasy goodness. The fridge door stabilized my balance as I pulled back. There it was…my container. I couldn’t wait to open it.
I popped the lid open and…
IT WAS FUCKING EMPTY!!
I stormed through our bus looking for Alan. I knew it was him, it had to be.
I found him on my bed, in the back, watching television as though he owned the fucking place. There were fresh grease stains on his shirt and a satisfaction across his face that revealed the truth.
“Did you eat my fucking quesadillas?” I asked.
“What’s that, Jimmy?”
He was trying to fuck with me. “I see grease stains on your shirt, Al.”
“Oh,” he looked down, “yea, that’s from, umm, something else.”
He was a shit liar. We pulled over somewhere near the New Mexico/Texas border. I kicked him to the curb, handing him his bag of clothes, a bottle of water and, of course, the empty Styrofoam container.
“But, Jimmy!” he pleaded.
“No!” I held my hand up, silencing him. “It would have been one thing if you had merely eaten the quesadillas.” I gathered myself, “But you…YOU not only ate them…but you had the audacity to return the empty container inside the fridge!”
“Uhh…” he looked around
“The excitement I had upon seeing that container. The anticipation as I opened it. Only to be followed imminently by emptiness.” I looked at the ground, almost tearing up. “It’s a tragedy this tour bus won’t soon forget.”
“Jimmy, man, even though I didn’t eat them, I’ll pay you back. There’s a Taco Bell a few miles…”
I lunged forward and kicked him in the face. “Fucking Taco Bell? Get out of my face with that shit!” I then whistled to the driver and we pulled away. Alan and his busted lip looked on from the side of the road belonging to a desolate interstate in who gives a fuck New Mexico.
That was the only Alan I had ever known.
So, I was highly suspicious when this Alan approached me, ready to take his interview. I wasn’t sure how his first name had eluded my filtration system. I had never wanted to hire another Alan so long as I was in a position to hire people with names.
He approached shirtless, wearing swim trunks. It was obvious he was a model…his upper body was shredded to perfection. I felt kinda gay thinking that.
“Mr. Bailey,” I initiated the conversation for some reason.
“Jimmy! Hey, man, great to meet ya!” he said in a casual manner. He talked as though we had been buddies.
“Take a seat,” I said instinctively. There was no chair, so he just plopped down on the sand and relaxed on his side. I had to slide my chair back and look under the table to keep eye contact with the guy.
“Thanks, this sand is real comfortable, I love the beach.”
“Sure, so, about the position…”
“Yea, about that,” he pinched some sand and blew it into the air. Wiping his hands, he smiled, “I’m not really interested. I just showed up for the free trip to the beach.”
“Uhh, really?”
“Yea, I love the beach, when you’ve got a body like this you flaunt it as much as possible.”
I started to grumble. “Women out here are pretty frisky too…started off slow, the only girl I hooked up with the first few days was that Rold girl…” he looked around in confusion. “Say!” an imaginary light bulb flashed over his head, “isn’t she interviewing for this job as well?”
Emma Rold was turning into quite the slut. “I believe so, yes.”
“Sweet, small world.”
“Well, we are on an island.”
“Haha, good one, Jimmy!” He hopped to his feet and eyed the coast. “Think I’m gonna go for a swim, maybe we can grab some drinks after?”
Before I could answer, he was sprinting toward the clear, blue water.
“Well, that was a waste of time.”
I crossed his name off the list, leaving one name remaining. The process neared its end.