Feeling under the weather today and trying to decide the future of the Chronicles, I decided to go with….
An excerpt from An Anger Management Novel.
“Expiration is…,” Kylie mumbled as she searched the Snickers’ bar that she’d found lodged beneath her seat for an expiration date, “…..February 2010.”
Worrying her bottom lip with indecision, Kylie contemplated eating the candy bar that was six years past its expiration and obviously a parting gift from the last person who’d owned this car. She normally wasn’t big on sweets, especially expired ones, but since she hadn’t had a chance to eat anything since lunch yesterday it was now fair game. She was starving and willing to take a chance on what was most likely going to end up being an adventure later when the candy bar finally settled in her stomach. She’d either end up desperately searching the pharmacy later for some antacids or begging a doctor at the emergency room to kill her.
For a moment, she remained kneeling between the back passenger door and the car as she contemplated the risks. When her stomach released another vicious growl, she decided that a night in the emergency room was well worth the risk. The fact that the candy bar was no longer an attractive light brown, but a hard white plastic should have changed her mind, but sadly, it didn’t.
Her mouth was practically salivating at the thought of that hard white plastic-like substance crumbling and crackling on her tongue. She opened her mouth and was just about to take a small bite to savor the questionable treat when she suddenly found herself yanked up off her knees and thrown over a large, and somewhat familiar shoulder. It actually concerned her that she’d realized that her precious treat had fallen out of her hands and broken into a hundred tiny piece on the sidewalk before it registered in her mind that she was once again being manhandled by her new boss. Before she could force her food starved mind off of her ruined meal, he was snapping at her.
“You’re late!” he growled as he shifted her on his shoulder.
She opened her mouth to point out that she’d actually been five minutes early when he started to jog, taking away her ability to speak as she was forced to clench her teeth together and close her eyes as her empty stomach protested rather violently at being bounced around on the rather large shoulder.
“Since we have a minute,” he said, easily jogging and not sounding out of breath as she prayed that she wasn’t about to lose whatever was in her stomach all over her new boss’s back, “why don’t we go over the rules?”
“Can it wait until-” she started to suggest only to get cut off abruptly, which in retrospect was probably a good thing since talking while upside down didn’t agree with her head or her stomach and only increased the likelihood of making a memorable first impression.
“Rule one, show up on time or don’t show up at all. No excuses,” he said and since she actually agreed with that rule she didn’t argue. Not that she really could put up much of an argument at that point, but she fully planned on explaining a thing or two to him once he put her down and her world stopped spinning.
“Rule number two, no bitching,” he said, sounding irritated as though she’d already committed the offense that she fully planned on arguing later, much later, she thought as she squeezed her eyes shut even harder as she prayed that she didn’t pass out.
“Rule number three, I expect things done right the first time. Don’t waste my time and yours with any fuck ups. I won’t be happy and I can guarantee you right now that neither will you,” he said right about the time that she decided that perhaps it would be better if she spent the next year living in her car instead of working for a man with a serious anger problem. Just when she’d decided to chance a mortifying moment by telling him just where he could stick his rules, she remembered that lovely contract that she’d been forced to sign this morning before the messenger would hand over the folder.
She could quit, but not yet, not until she went through with the agreed terms. One month, she had to give it one month before she could quit, which at the time had seemed a bit odd to her. It was normally something that would have had her declining an offer and looking for a new job, but she had been kind of preoccupied at the time with the fire quickly spreading and the SWAT team showing up. She’d admit that she hadn’t really given the requirements to her new job much thought at the time.
© Rerum Industries, Inc. 2016