There was something bittersweet about my last day with Toad. Despite his crazy paranoia, political rantings and sausage-filled cavities, he did have his charming side. Toad was in an especially good mood that day - it was his way of letting me know that he wasn't upset that I was leaving for school and going back to the night shift He was letting me know he didn't take it personally. I was my usual hour late and brought out the trash cans, squeegee buckets and air hose as fast as I could, without even stopping to chit-chat with the guys next door at Amoco. They had taken a special interest in me since my overdose in their air-conditioned waiting area. They had been especially impressed by my guzzling of three or four bottles of Gatorade - I'd lost count in my delirium.
I unlocked the pumps and awaited the first customer of the day while Toad reported the tank levels to Lee. It was a long wait. The station opened absurdly early and hardly anyone was out driving at that hour. Toad turned on his favorite radio station - KY-102, which had a morning program that one could loosely describe as a comedy show. Toad laughed uproariously at the crazy antics of the deejays while I buried my head in a futile attempt to hide from the annoying blather. Occasionally, they would play a compact disc for those who happened to like bad '70s music. Invariably the disc would skip, sending Toad on an hour-long rant about how compact discs were inferior to vinyl.
"Yeah. Yeah. CDs don't fuck up."
"What?"
"CDs don't fuck up."
"I still have no idea what you're talking about."
"Remember when compact discs first came out. Part of the hype was that they never fuck up. So why did that CD just skip?"
"Maybe because they scratched it?"
"That shouldn't matter. CDs don't fuck up."
"Dude, I think you're confused."
"CDs don't 'fuck up'." Toad was becoming clearly irate
"Look, if you take a knife and run it across a CD, of course it's going to skip."
"Yeah. Yeah."
"The advantage of CDs is you can play them indefinitely and, as long as you take care of them, you don't lose quality. Vinyl, on the other hand, loses quality because you're running a needle across it. Just playing it degrades the sound."
"Well, that's not what they said when they when they were hyping compact discs."
"Yeah. That's exactly what they said when they were hyping compact discs."
"I would expect something like that coming from a German. They invented compact discs you know."
I looked at Toad, wondering if he was joking, "Huh?"
"'Mann' - that's a German name isn't it?"
I chuckled briefly, thinking Toad must be fucking with me, but soon realized he was dead serious.
"Dude, are you out of your mind? How much have you had to drink today?"
"My drinking has nothing to do with it. I practice moderation remember? Unlike some opiate eaters I know."
"I think you better go to Amaco and get some coffee or something."
"I don't think it's a coincidence that Tom and Lee are German too. The entire petroleum industry is run by Germans.
"That has to be the craziest thing I've ever heard in my life. And I've heard some pretty fucked up shit coming from people frying their ass off on acid."
"What country has started every world war?"
I'd had enough. I refused to be suck further into this insanity. I could be just as absurd as Toad if I wanted....
"Well, look at this way. Human beings have no natural predators, right?"
"Yeah...."
"Well, that's what Germany's for. If it wasn't for Germany, the world would be overrun with human beings. All natural resources would be exhausted. Nuclear winter would run rampant. If you ask me, you owe Germany a big thank you for keeping the population thin. Your standard of living would be worse than the Neanderthal if it wasn't for Germany."
"How can you be so callous, Darren."
"It has nothing to do with being callous. It's simply the truth. You owe your way of life to Germany. I think you should go to Oktoberfest with me."
Toad shook his head and gazed out the front window, deep in thought. A car drove by with a cute blonde driving, "Wow, did you see that?!"
I did, but I was having too much fun fucking with Toad, "See what?"
"That girl driving down the highway - she was hot!"
"I didn't see any girl. All I saw was a German Nationalist."
"So sad."
Our conversation was interrupted by Johnny Gladstone. Not even his rotten surliness could destroy my fun with Toad. As Johnny approached, I noticed he was carrying a metal device. He entered the office and held the device to his throat, "How are all you doing today?" the metallic voice monotoned.
I was stunned. The rotten old bastard had his vocal chords removed. As mean as he was to us, I couldn't help but to feel pity for him. After having both grandmothers die of cancer, I couldn't wish that upon anyone. His demeanor was drastically different. Facing death had brought out the good that he had long ago buried deep within himself.
"Hey, Johnny," I replied.
The metallic voice lent a creepiness of sorts to the room, "I just came by to square away my accounts. My son's gonna be takin' over the business now."
My heart sank. I could tell the cancer was advanced. I could smell that sweet, musty scent that portended death. I was relieved to see a car pull up outside. That scent was too much for me. It reminded me of my grandmothers. As I walked out to start the car, I considered Johnny's predicament. There was a level on which I would gladly have traded places with him. Legal morphine was worth any degree of pain.
As I finished up the car, Johnny came back out, waving kindly as he got into his car. It was the last time I ever saw him. A few weeks later, his wife pulled in crying and asked me to fill her car up.
I had one more piece of business to take care of before leaving the day shift forever. We kept a series of maps on the oil shelf which sat behind the desk. The Kansas and Missouri maps sold rather quickly but there was an Iowa map that had been sitting there for years. I bet Toad a dollar I could get rid of that map before my final day shift was over. Of course he completely underestimated my ingenuity and took me up on the bet.
The day was drawing to a close and I still hadn't gotten rid of the map. After a short lull in business a cute girl pulled in driving a Nissan 200sx. I went out to greet her and she asked me to fill it up and check the oil. The oil was full and once the gas was finished, I took her credit card inside and inserted it into the machine. As I laid the carbon over and swiped the handle, a moment of inspiration hit me. I grabbed the Iowa map from the shelf and tucked it out of sight in my back pocket. I had the girl sign the receipt and gave her her copy. She thanked me and started her car.
"Wait!"
She looked at me in total surprise.
"You are our one millionth customer and you have won a special prize!"
The girl's eyes lit up. I could see visions of a free year's worth of gas dancing through her head. Or maybe free oil changes for life. Little did she know her real prize was something far more special.
I removed the map from my back pocket and carefully handed it to her as though it was a priceless gem, "You have won a free map of Iowa!"
The girl laughed and thanked me for the free gift, certain it would come handy during an exciting adventure through Iowa.
Toad was stunned. That map had been sitting on that shelf for years. No matter how much he racked his brains, he couldn't figure out how I had managed to get rid of it. I have no doubt visions of German conspiracies and compact disc scams played some part in it.
Toad filled his plastic mug with vodka and Mountain Dew and took a large gulp, "Well, it looks like you're going to be going back to the night shift soon."
"Looks that way."
"Who's gonna help me figure out my life now?"
"I dunno dude. I kinda need to figure out my own life, you know?"
Toad sucked on his gray rubber straw and laughed hysterically, "I guess moderation is the key."
Posted by DevilMonkey at 10:21 PM