4:55
"Just what do you think you're doing,"she said as she stepped foward from the line. She raised a trembling hand from her side with one crooked finger stretched out in my direction. The knuckles looked like walnuts jammed into sausage casing. Blue viens started half way up the middle finger, went under the sleeve of her polyester stay-press shirt, and bulged out of her hand stretching her leather skin to it's limit.
"Waiting to clock out," I said as I looked up at her from my spot next to the time clock.
Her eyes where like twin spiders perched on a web of wrinkled skin. sullen and sad yet with a cold malice that burned through the back of my head. Her bottom lip curled up and her jaw pushed foward, causing the arteries in her neck to pop out.
"well get back to your line like everyone else," she snarled while moving her finger to the side.
I looked to the side, and saw twenty or so more old ladies that looked exacly the same as the one in front of me.
I watched them all day puting nw perfume into boxes with their old hands, then sending it down the line for someone else to pack, wrap, box, and whatever else needed to be done to it.
For the last seven hours, fifty-five minutes, and thirty-two seconds I walked up and down that line, making sure the old laidies were fully stocked with everything they needed to preform the mundane tasks they had been at since before there hair turned blue. They would move back and forth pulling levers and pushing buttons like they were dancing to the rhythm of the conveyer belt that ran between them.
"we have rules here you know," she demanded, bringing her hand back down to her side. "why don'tyou look around." Abought fifty conveyer belts stretched out from two opposite walls, making an alternating pattern like the teeth in a giant zipper. The lights hung on long metal chains with an inch thick layer of dust on each link. Just enough unholy light fell out of them to make every shadow in the place disappear and wash everything in one pale shade of cold grey-blue.
Each line had its own set of old ladies just like mine. They were all standing in perfect lines waiting for a guy in a cheap suit to tell them they could go to the time clock. I stepped into my place in line and waited.
"Do you belive him." I heard her tell one of the other laidies. "They think they can do whatever they want."
When the man came to my line, the laidies executed their march to the clock with a percision that only comes from years of practice. the march continued out to the parking lot, into their cars and, I would have to assume, into their houses when they got home. I have never seen such pride in a thing like walking to your car. I got into my own car wonderingif they would mail me the check for one day.
"Just what do you think you're doing,"she said as she stepped foward from the line. She raised a trembling hand from her side with one crooked finger stretched out in my direction. The knuckles looked like walnuts jammed into sausage casing. Blue viens started half way up the middle finger, went under the sleeve of her polyester stay-press shirt, and bulged out of her hand stretching her leather skin to it's limit.
"Waiting to clock out," I said as I looked up at her from my spot next to the time clock.
Her eyes where like twin spiders perched on a web of wrinkled skin. sullen and sad yet with a cold malice that burned through the back of my head. Her bottom lip curled up and her jaw pushed foward, causing the arteries in her neck to pop out.
"well get back to your line like everyone else," she snarled while moving her finger to the side.
I looked to the side, and saw twenty or so more old ladies that looked exacly the same as the one in front of me.
I watched them all day puting nw perfume into boxes with their old hands, then sending it down the line for someone else to pack, wrap, box, and whatever else needed to be done to it.
For the last seven hours, fifty-five minutes, and thirty-two seconds I walked up and down that line, making sure the old laidies were fully stocked with everything they needed to preform the mundane tasks they had been at since before there hair turned blue. They would move back and forth pulling levers and pushing buttons like they were dancing to the rhythm of the conveyer belt that ran between them.
"we have rules here you know," she demanded, bringing her hand back down to her side. "why don'tyou look around." Abought fifty conveyer belts stretched out from two opposite walls, making an alternating pattern like the teeth in a giant zipper. The lights hung on long metal chains with an inch thick layer of dust on each link. Just enough unholy light fell out of them to make every shadow in the place disappear and wash everything in one pale shade of cold grey-blue.
Each line had its own set of old ladies just like mine. They were all standing in perfect lines waiting for a guy in a cheap suit to tell them they could go to the time clock. I stepped into my place in line and waited.
"Do you belive him." I heard her tell one of the other laidies. "They think they can do whatever they want."
When the man came to my line, the laidies executed their march to the clock with a percision that only comes from years of practice. the march continued out to the parking lot, into their cars and, I would have to assume, into their houses when they got home. I have never seen such pride in a thing like walking to your car. I got into my own car wonderingif they would mail me the check for one day.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
But I am not too keen on the nose piercing, I don't think it's "me".
And, it looks like it's leaning twords Big Fish this weekend....