Megan’s Account
Melody, the dumb bitch I worked for, was so stupid it was hard to fathom—degrees in everything but reality.
She hires this guy who is annihilated—drunk, and high—lets him go right to work. Nobody knew his name, so they were just calling him Bud on his first day.
I go to hot foods to get my lunch and I see this zombie standing there weaving on his feet. I go upstairs and say, “Melody, that guy you just hired is high, and drunk—he is GONE!”
“Oh no, it could not be,” she says in her silver spoon voice, “I just interviewed him. He is a gentleman.”
Well, I said to myself, “If every man that fucked me had to get plastered to get close enough to put the paper bag over my head I supposed I’d be a dumb bitch too where drunks were concerned.”
Then Jarell comes running upstairs, “Miss Melody, that man that jus’ started, jus’ fall out, en splatter his face all ova da flo!”
We go down to the hot foods bar and the guy is laying face down in a puddle of blood mumbling. I just told Jarell, “Take his ass to the medical center, and make sure they drug test him so we don’t have to pay for this shit.”
That dumb bitch Melody is pacing around, “Oh, me oh my!”
Sometimes you just want to strangle a bitch.
Not ten minutes later Jarell is back in the store with his eyes wide. I’m like, “Jarell, what the hell?”
Jarell was in ‘I can’t believe this shit’ mode.
“Miss Megan, I was driving down the road en that fiend wake up, look around, open the door, and jump! I was doin’ foty en that fiend jumped, hit the road, smacked, flapped, en rolled, and was up en runin’ like the Devil was on his ass!”
So that’s all about Bud, whoever the fuck he was.
