The days at the station were getting longer and longer. I would sit in a state of catatonia wondering if my life would ever change. I was in a state of stasis. Forever trapped in what had become a boring, uneventful purgatory. Long gone were the days of tripping on acid and being tormented by retards. Gone were the days of looking down cute girl's tops. Gone were the days of battling brown recluses, wayward pigeons and crazy pixies. Now, it was just sitting around chain-smoking and watching "90210" reruns I'd already seen a million times before. It wasn't even fun to make fun of "Thunder in Paradise" anymore - a show where Hulk Hogan played a Navy Seal who, with his brainy partner, commanded a high-tech boat called "Thunder." That show used to be particularly fun to watch with Dustin. Whenever they showed the boat chasing after bad guys, the footage was sped up so the boat traveled impossibly fast. We'd always add our own dialogue, usually borrowing from "Star Wars": "Piloting Thunder isn't like dusting crops, boy! Without precise calculations you could bounce into the coast of Africa and slam into Australia and that'd end your trip real quick, wouldn't it?!"
As certain as I was I had gotten the job at Cerner, I had pretty much given up after not hearing from them for a couple of months. Susan reassured me that they were usually glacially slow in their hiring process. Sure enough, I received a phone call at the station one boring day. It was the "enabler" who had given me the itinerary prior to my interview! They were offering me a position as a programmer! I was in shock as I hung up the phone. This was a major coup for me. Cerner never hired anyone without a college degree, let alone high school dropouts.
Suddenly the gas station and all the little concerns about it seemed completely meaningless. I called Toad and gave him my two weeks notice. His response was somewhat pathetic. He was so used to employees just up and leaving without notice. I almost felt bad as he thanked me over and over for "doing it right."
I had more fun my final week at the station than I'd had since the days of doing acid while waiting on cars. I took the opportunity to put certain customers in their place. One day, a young man came in driving a pickup. He parked next to the pumps like he wanted gas, so I went out to take care of him.
"Hey, watcha need?"
"Check the oil."
"What?"
"Check the oil."
"Are you getting gas?"
It irritated me to no end when people did that. Our station charged nothing extra for full service and some shameless individuals didn't mind taking advantage of the fact. Now, Tom and Lee couldn't have cared less if we'd just told the deadbeats to get lost. But the gas station was Toad's life and he demanded everyone be treated with the utmost respect.
"Do I have to get gas to get you to check the oil?"
"That's usually how it works."
"Nevermind. I'll check it myself."
"Okay."
I went back inside and sat down at the desk. A few minutes later, the man came inside.
"I need a quart of oil. Do you sell that?"
I turned to the rows of oil sitting on shelves behind me, "What does it look like?"
"You know what. Fuck it. I'll go across the street. Asshole."
"Bye. Come back, now!" I called after him.
The gas station held one final surprise for me. I should have known I wouldn't be able to get away so easily.
The day started innocently enough, with Toad and Pedro leaving me to work alone until Poopie arrived. It wasn't like there was any business anymore. I probably could have handled the entire shift by myself.
Poopie arrived five minutes late with a wide grin on his face, "Poop!"
"Hey Poopie."
"Guess what!"
"I give up."
"I made a little Poopie!"
I pondered a moment. Did he mean he just shit himself? "A what?"
"Vanessa's pregnant! We're going to have a little Poopie!"
The mental picture burned itself into my mind's eye. I could envision Vanessa lying on a table like a lump of dough, shooting a little brown mound out of some unmentionable orifice.
"That's... disturbing."
"Darren?! Aren't you happy for us?"
"Sure, man. I'm certain you three will be happy living off of my tax money."
"You're just jealous!"
"My God."
Poopie ended up moving in with Vanessa Poopie, after I'd left the station, and they lived in bliss with their little Poopie for several months. Poopie collected disability for some mental disturbance from which he suffered while Vanessa collected all sorts of government benefits. It almost made me wish I was a single mother. Their relationship lasted all of three months before Vanessa kicked Poopie out for being a "lazy good-for-nothing." Not that she needed him around for income or anything. My tax dollars saw to that. Hell, she could have even gone to college for free. What a racket.
And so, the final night came. I counted my money and read the pumps and punched the codes on the credit card machine to spit out the printout of the night's receipts. I tore the day's page off the calendar and took a Polaroid Josh had taken of Tracy, Toad, Roy and me in the office and tucked it somewhere in the middle of the calendar so Toad would get it as a surprise some day in the future. I brought everything inside, locked the pumps and turned the "Closed" sign one last time. I left the station for the last time, locking the door behind me.
Posted by DevilMonkey at 12:22 AM