I guess my empty opiate stare betrayed some inner unrest. The Metro Baptist Church minister, whose name I never could remember, was hell-bent on bringing me into the fold. I resented his advances deeply. It was an insult that he concentrated so intently on my soul and none of my coworkers'. I cringed when I saw his blue four-door pulling into my island. Standing outside baking in the hundred degree heat, I could barely breathe the thick, moist air. I watched with dead eyes as the car slowed to a quiet halt next to the premium unleaded pump. The minister energetically opened his door, releasing a brief, refreshing blast of air-conditioned relief over me. It was almost as if God had farted on me.

"Hello Darren! How are you today?!"

That sparkling Christian Glow sickened me. I wanted to kick him in the nuts. As sedated as I was, I doubt I could have lifted my foot that high.

"Wonderful," I replied in a dead-pan tone that was almost imperceptibly laced with sarcasm, "how's it going?" Not that I cared.

"Great! Great!"

Jesus Christ.

"Go ahead and fill her up with premium!"

I started the gas and returned to the side of the pump, resting my arms and head on top of it.

"You look a little down today."

Here we go.

"Well, it's kinda hot and I'm a bit tired."

"You know Jesus'll fill that hole in your life, Darren."

A small pulse of electric hatred sparked somewhere in my gut. It had been a long day with the wretched heat, Toad's drunken ranting and old women forcing me to bake over their blazing hot engines because their husbands were either dead or close to it. The Baptist minister - whatever the hell his name was - was going to pay for it all.

"You know, I don't understand how you can actually believe everything in the Bible literally. I could see it if you treated it like Greek mythology or something."

I didn't even put a dent in that Christian Glow of his.

"Well, I don't see how you can be a moral person without believing in God."

"Oh wait. So, you're saying the only reason you don't murder or rape is because you're afraid of being punished by God? I don't murder people or rape people and I don't believe in God. I don't do it because I know how I'd feel if someone did that to me or someone I care about."

"I'm just saying bringing Jesus into your life will wash away those demons that are tormenting you."

"What? Demons? That's just crazy. We have science now, we don't need demons or God to explain things."

"What about love?"

"Brain chemistry. If you don't believe me, go to the hospital and get put on morphine. It's the exact same thing as 'love'."

"That's a pretty bleak view you have there. How can you live and be happy thinking like that?"

"I do what I can... " and a lot of it, I finished mentally.

At least I had managed to shut him up. We stood in awkward silence until the tank filled. I filled out his receipt book and marked the sale down on Toad's custom accounting sheet. I returned to my chair and sat in the choking heat of the office. Flies buzzed around me and the fan hummed as it blew hot air into the room. I took a couple of painkillers from my pocket and swallowed them with a swig of Dr. Pepper. I'd probably taken some no more than a half hour ago and forgotten.

Toad extracted a brown paper bag from one of the bottom desk drawers and removed the fifth of vodka it hid. He filled his plastic convenience store mug three quarters to the top with vodka and then topped it off with Mountain Dew. He replaced the blue plastic cover and grey rubber straw and took an enormous gulp, then sat back and stroked his bushy beard.

"You know, for some reason when I'm around you, I get analytical about my life."

I looked at him suspiciously, "That's sick, man."

"What am I going to do with my life, Darren? I'm 36 years old and managing a gas station."

"I'm probably the last person you should ask. Maybe you should take it up with that Metro Baptist guy. I mean, I'm not even manager of a gas station."

Toad laughed, "I guess that's true."

Toad was being uncharacteristically lucid. The whole thing troubled me somewhat. I was annoyed to find myself contemplating my life. As idiotic as the Baptist guy was, he was right. I had a void lurking somewhere in my head like a black hole sucking up anything it could find to fill itself. I reached into my pocket and tossed the hole another painkiller. Life suddenly seemed like an enormous ocean and I was afloat in a raft in the dead of night.

My introspective interlude was broken by Johnny Gladstone. Vile old bastard. I slowly rose from my chair and grabbed the receipt book for Gladstone Plumbing. I didn't bother greeting Johnny as I passed him on the way to his van. I could hear his gravelly voice spouting profanities about the night shift in between drags off his Lucky Strike cigarette. Toad smiled calmly and suckled obsessively from his gray rubber straw. I returned to the office to get Johnny's signature on the receipt as Toad reassured him he would forward his complaints to Lee. Johnny lit another cigarette and left completely unsatisfied.

I sighed, "Where the hell do these people come from?"

Toad scratched his chin through the graying strands of his beard as he looked thoughtfully out the front window, "Hell."

As I slowly shuffled back to my seat, I suddenly felt a wave of queasiness creeping over me. The combination of heat and painkillers had finally caught up with me. My legs weakened and my stomach quivered and then forcefully tightened, sending its contents rushing into my mouth with an audible heaving sound. I swallowed the vomit, washing it down with Dr. Pepper. I wasn't about to spill three painkillers all over that filthy floor.

I slumped into my chair, trembling. "Fuck."

Toad took a swig of his vodka, "I find moderation is the key."

"Dude. You're halfway through your second bottle of vodka and it's not even two o'clock."

"Do you see me eating my own vomit?"

I leaned my head back, covering my eyes with my clammy hand. The world seemed fragmented and confusing. I didn't even know what my emotions were. Everything I felt came from chemicals I ingested. The heat was growing more and more unbearable. I felt like I was dreaming.

Somewhere in the darkness, the pay-phone rang. I heard the shuffling of footsteps and Toad's heavy breathing as his lungs struggled to expand against his enormous beer-gut.

"United Metro, this is Toad." His voice sounded like a distant echo, almost as though it traveled from another time.

"Oh hi, Jenny."

The rest of the conversation was a random collection of blurry "yeah's", "okay's", "sure's", "oh really's" and "uh-hu's".

Toad returned to his seat, "Yep. I guess Jenny's looking for someone to cover Cheryl's shift."

The piece of news was interesting enough to revive me somewhat. I opened my eyes, as much as I could and rolled my head to the side so I could look at Toad. I managed to croak out an "Oh?" The white-trash, Jerry Springer drama of Ted's family was endlessly fascinating to me.

"Yep. I guess they had a big fight and Cheryl ran away."

"About what?"

"Cheryl got pregnant by some black dude."

"Holy shit! Are you serious?"

"Yep."

"What about Daryl and Daryl?"

Toad shrugged.

"Wait, so Ted's going to have a half-black grandkid?"

"Yep."

"That is fucking awesome! Maybe there really is a God."

I tried to hold on to my elation - savoring it would take my mind off my worsening physical state. But it was like trying to grip a soggy noodle and my stomach started trembling again.

"Dude, I have to go down to Amoco and hang out in the air conditioning for a bit. I really feel sick."

"Yeah, you don't look too good."

It was worse than not looking too good. I wasn't even sweating anymore. I was almost completely dry and my complexion ashen. The Amoco next door was a garage as well as a gas station and convenience store, so there were chairs for waiting customers. I bought a large fruit punch Gatoraid and drank it in one continuous stream. I drank two more similarly, curled up in one of the waiting chairs, shaking and confused.

I heard the phone ring and the clerk answer. It was Toad checking on me. I felt blackness closing in like it was absorbing the world around me. My pulse was absurdly slow and my breathing shallow. As my awareness faded into the tightening blackness, some part of my consciousness realized that I had to change. Life wasn't going to mean anything if I didn't give it meaning.

I heard the Amoco clerk hang up the phone, "Are you okay?"

My only response was a faint smile and nod as I gave in to the blackness.

Posted by DevilMonkey at 7:59 PM

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