Inconvenience Store
Dollar Billus Chain Lettericus
Alright, who's the fuckhead writing on all the goddamned money in this town? One of you pricks out there has way too much time on your hands.
Fucking dollar bills are turning into chain letters.
Who likes chain letters anyhow? What's up with them things?
I hold before me right this minute an example of our mystery author's work.
Ball point pin, blue, around the border of the green side of a greenback. Fairly neat penmanship. Might be a broad. Broads always have better penmanship than guys.
And I quote: St. Elizabeth Anyone receiving this bill will be blessed with a lot of money if he writes this Saying on 10 other bills
The capitalization is a little daffy, and there's no period on the end of the sentence, but the sonofabitch sailed right through my spell checker with flying colors. So we're not talking the village idiot here. It's somebody that seems to have gotten out of high school without too many tattoos or body piercings. Got at least HALF a brain, yeah?
Well.now that I think about it, maybe not.
These fucking things are starting to flood my damn cash drawer. And my regular customers are getting the damn things all the time, too. Nobody like's em. And from the look of the penmanship on all of em (it's ever the same), nobody else has seen fit to fill out their own little quota of "10 other bills" My guess is that one compulsive weirdo out there has gone a little overboard with this deal and didn't stop with "10 other bills" Nope. More like a THOUSAND and "10 other bills"
Now stop and think a minute here what that means. Somewhere, somebody sits over a desk, pen in hand, scribbling away on a hoard of dollar bills. Hour after hour. Day after day. Just grinding these things out. I'll bet the curtains are drawn and there's a couple of Edgar Cayce books on the shelves somewhere. JC on the cross-sticks too, no doubt. Probably dark in there. Phone hasn't rung in over a month. No tv set. I hear feet shuffling across a carpet. Damn pen ran out of ink, gotta get another one.
Enough of this crap. I've been holding on to this fucked up dollar bill for too long now. Time to take it outdoors and hand it over to somebody for some beers. Now it'll be in THEIR cash drawer. Don't think I'll bother with my personal quota of "10 other bills"
Hey! Whoever the hell you are out there, knock this shit off, ok?
Fuck off, asshole.
A lifetime resident (despite having travelled all over the damn place at one time or another) of Central Florida, James MacLaren took a four-year degree in death thrills riding giant waves on the North Shore back in the 70's. Wound up in the inconvenience store following a lay off from the Cape, where he was involved with the construction of the Space Shuttle launch pads, among other things. Father of best son in the world.
