Day three
The third day of work was like a warm summers breeze, and Waltre was at his charming best. He even managed to calm the Buddhist women down, but he was helped greatly by the fact that the Muslims managed to stay awake. At the end of the day the production numbers for the Foreign Legion Department were excellent, and Waltre left the factory feeling like he was floating on the hydrogen that they used to pump up the air bags.
As usual Sam was at the door bumming cigarettes, and Waltre gave him two.
"Have another one for the ride home."
'You wouldn't happen to be going by..." Sam said.
"No, I'm going to Portland and I'm already late." Walter quickly cut him off.
"Jeez, give him an inch and he wants yer bloody wallet!" Waltre thought.
He walked past the old Lincoln Town Car, and he was pleased to see that the windows were still intact. He made a mental note about he must not be prejudiced against rap music, and he worried, for a moment, about the karma he had sent out by wishing some one had broken the old Lincoln's car windows and stole the stereo.
He quickly apologized to the Universe and hoped his car windows weren't already broken!
He found that they weren't broken, but he suspected that in some parallel universe, probably in most of them, actually; he would now be standing beside his car looking at a smashed in window, and he'd be wondering where his stereo went.
"It's a good job I'm in this version of it all" He thought before dialing the radio to the Mexican channel.
He liked the Mexican music, and he was delighted to hear that the trumpets were blowing beautifully. He turned the radio up to it's fullest capacity and reversed out of the parking spot only just missing a big black woman.
"Hey!" She yelled.
Waltre put on the brakes and and rolled down his window.
"You almost hit me." The woman screamed.
"Yes, and you are very fat." He said.
"What did you say?" She shouted at the top of her voice.
"I said I'm very sorry about that."
"I can't hear a word you is saying." She yelled. "You ought to turn that music down."
Waltre turned the radio down.
'Sorry." He said with a big smile.
"Yer you ought to be too. I'd sue your ass, and Nikes too." She said as she turned away.
Wouldn't get much out of me. He reasoned
On the drive out of the parking lot, Waltre made another mental note. "I must watch my subconscious mind"
The traffic was as smooth as it could be for a Sunday, and the trip home only took forty minutes. He stopped at the Safeway store for beer, plus a frozen dinner, and once again wished that he'd took the time to fill in the Safeway card. He could have saved two dollars with the damn card.
Once home, after opening one, and then taking a deep swig, the beer was deposited in the already full of beer fridge.
"That damn recluse." He mumbled, as he arranged the beer so he could fit his six pack of pints in.
He took his pint of beer to his office, more realistically, the room where his computer was, and he turned the computer on. Then he turned on the Oreck XL professional air purifier, as well as another lesser known air purifier, plus the window fan, and another fan that directed the air to the window. Then he placed a towel at he bottom of the door so no air could get into the living room.
He'd promised Jean, who thought she owned the house, that he wouldn't smoke in the house.
He lit a cigarette. Then he pointed the mouse thing at the MSN logo and clicked. The MSN thing came on the screen. He entered in his user name, then his password, and clicked whatever it is he clicks to get onto MSN.
The slow dial up procedure began.
A very slight knock came on the door.
"Is that someone knocking on my door?"
He could hardly hear it; what with all the noise of the fans and air conditioning stuff, like.
He opened the door to find the recluse; who, by the way, thinks he owns the house.
The night before, Waltre had had words with the recluse. He couldn't understand why the damn recluse had decided to emerge from the basement to do his laundry, and potter around in the kitchen, after eight O'clock, when he knew damn well that Waltre had to be up at three thirty in the morning. The recluse, who thought he owned the place, got very angry. Then he went back to the basement...banging the door very hard, I might add.
Waltre expected an apology, but the recluse had knocked on Waltre's office door to tell Waltre about the latest antics of his cats.
"That damn Trixie, she brought a mouse into my room, and she played with it for hours."
Oh well, Waltre thought, I guess we aren't enemies after all.
"Was the mouse alive?"
"It was for the first two hours." He replied.
"They are animals." Waltre said. "Animals do things like that, and that's what makes us human, because we don't do things like that."
"You are right." He said with a drunken smile.
"Jean and Angela always petted the cats, and they got carried away with them."
"Cats are animals." Waltre said. "They are only allowed to be around us because they catch mice. Why else would we put up with that shitty fuckin thing that they shit in?"
Waltre could sense that the recluse had probably called Jean to complain, but Jean had probably told him to get his sorry ass together or Waltre would soon be moving on to better pastures and taking his six hundred dollars a month with him.
"Cat's are animals." Waltre said. "Imagine what it would be like to be a mouse."
"Hmmm."
"Imagine what it’s like to be smaller than a cat. Can you imagine it?"
"Hmmm."
Imagine a huge cat coming down on you, and imagine the look in its eyes."
"Okay."
"Would you like to be smaller than a cat?"
"No I guess I wouldn't." The recluse said.
"Now imagine what cats see when they see you." Waltre said.
"Hmmm, I'll have to think about that."
Think about it my arse. If you piss me off you are out $600, and cats make Hitler and Stalin look like they are compassionate.
"Fuck you and your cats." Waltre thought, as the recluse departed while pretending to think about a new viewpoint on cats.
"Think about what it would be like if you were smaller than a cat." Waltre threw at him as the recluse went back to the basement.
Waltre wnt back to the computer, and typed in Friday Night Philosophy into a heading. Then he remembered that it was actually Sunday night. So he drank the last of his beer and went to bed, but not before eating his frozen dinner, which was absolutely delicious.
As usual Sam was at the door bumming cigarettes, and Waltre gave him two.
"Have another one for the ride home."
'You wouldn't happen to be going by..." Sam said.
"No, I'm going to Portland and I'm already late." Walter quickly cut him off.
"Jeez, give him an inch and he wants yer bloody wallet!" Waltre thought.
He walked past the old Lincoln Town Car, and he was pleased to see that the windows were still intact. He made a mental note about he must not be prejudiced against rap music, and he worried, for a moment, about the karma he had sent out by wishing some one had broken the old Lincoln's car windows and stole the stereo.
He quickly apologized to the Universe and hoped his car windows weren't already broken!
He found that they weren't broken, but he suspected that in some parallel universe, probably in most of them, actually; he would now be standing beside his car looking at a smashed in window, and he'd be wondering where his stereo went.
"It's a good job I'm in this version of it all" He thought before dialing the radio to the Mexican channel.
He liked the Mexican music, and he was delighted to hear that the trumpets were blowing beautifully. He turned the radio up to it's fullest capacity and reversed out of the parking spot only just missing a big black woman.
"Hey!" She yelled.
Waltre put on the brakes and and rolled down his window.
"You almost hit me." The woman screamed.
"Yes, and you are very fat." He said.
"What did you say?" She shouted at the top of her voice.
"I said I'm very sorry about that."
"I can't hear a word you is saying." She yelled. "You ought to turn that music down."
Waltre turned the radio down.
'Sorry." He said with a big smile.
"Yer you ought to be too. I'd sue your ass, and Nikes too." She said as she turned away.
Wouldn't get much out of me. He reasoned
On the drive out of the parking lot, Waltre made another mental note. "I must watch my subconscious mind"
The traffic was as smooth as it could be for a Sunday, and the trip home only took forty minutes. He stopped at the Safeway store for beer, plus a frozen dinner, and once again wished that he'd took the time to fill in the Safeway card. He could have saved two dollars with the damn card.
Once home, after opening one, and then taking a deep swig, the beer was deposited in the already full of beer fridge.
"That damn recluse." He mumbled, as he arranged the beer so he could fit his six pack of pints in.
He took his pint of beer to his office, more realistically, the room where his computer was, and he turned the computer on. Then he turned on the Oreck XL professional air purifier, as well as another lesser known air purifier, plus the window fan, and another fan that directed the air to the window. Then he placed a towel at he bottom of the door so no air could get into the living room.
He'd promised Jean, who thought she owned the house, that he wouldn't smoke in the house.
He lit a cigarette. Then he pointed the mouse thing at the MSN logo and clicked. The MSN thing came on the screen. He entered in his user name, then his password, and clicked whatever it is he clicks to get onto MSN.
The slow dial up procedure began.
A very slight knock came on the door.
"Is that someone knocking on my door?"
He could hardly hear it; what with all the noise of the fans and air conditioning stuff, like.
He opened the door to find the recluse; who, by the way, thinks he owns the house.
The night before, Waltre had had words with the recluse. He couldn't understand why the damn recluse had decided to emerge from the basement to do his laundry, and potter around in the kitchen, after eight O'clock, when he knew damn well that Waltre had to be up at three thirty in the morning. The recluse, who thought he owned the place, got very angry. Then he went back to the basement...banging the door very hard, I might add.
Waltre expected an apology, but the recluse had knocked on Waltre's office door to tell Waltre about the latest antics of his cats.
"That damn Trixie, she brought a mouse into my room, and she played with it for hours."
Oh well, Waltre thought, I guess we aren't enemies after all.
"Was the mouse alive?"
"It was for the first two hours." He replied.
"They are animals." Waltre said. "Animals do things like that, and that's what makes us human, because we don't do things like that."
"You are right." He said with a drunken smile.
"Jean and Angela always petted the cats, and they got carried away with them."
"Cats are animals." Waltre said. "They are only allowed to be around us because they catch mice. Why else would we put up with that shitty fuckin thing that they shit in?"
Waltre could sense that the recluse had probably called Jean to complain, but Jean had probably told him to get his sorry ass together or Waltre would soon be moving on to better pastures and taking his six hundred dollars a month with him.
"Cat's are animals." Waltre said. "Imagine what it would be like to be a mouse."
"Hmmm."
"Imagine what it’s like to be smaller than a cat. Can you imagine it?"
"Hmmm."
Imagine a huge cat coming down on you, and imagine the look in its eyes."
"Okay."
"Would you like to be smaller than a cat?"
"No I guess I wouldn't." The recluse said.
"Now imagine what cats see when they see you." Waltre said.
"Hmmm, I'll have to think about that."
Think about it my arse. If you piss me off you are out $600, and cats make Hitler and Stalin look like they are compassionate.
"Fuck you and your cats." Waltre thought, as the recluse departed while pretending to think about a new viewpoint on cats.
"Think about what it would be like if you were smaller than a cat." Waltre threw at him as the recluse went back to the basement.
Waltre wnt back to the computer, and typed in Friday Night Philosophy into a heading. Then he remembered that it was actually Sunday night. So he drank the last of his beer and went to bed, but not before eating his frozen dinner, which was absolutely delicious.
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