Day two

The second day of the work week was easier, and Waltre felt energized by the thought that it was only a three day work week. Three twelve hour shifts were easy to take when one was on the second day, and especially so when one had four days off to look forward to.

It was a strange day. The Buddhists from Vietnam and Cambodia, that came to America after the Vietnam war, were complaining about the Muslims that had just recently came over from Somalia and Senegal. The Muslims were still on their fast, and many of them were falling asleep while operating their machines.

The Vietnamese women liked to get high production numbers, and as such they were in a bad mood.

"They no eat! They need eat!"

The Muslims weren't taking any notice. Ramadan is the holiest period of the year, and they weren't going to break their fast just because a few crazy oriental woman were pissed off at them.

Waltre spoke to Neurain about it.

"The fast is almost over." Neurain said. 'It might even be over today. We are waiting to find out what the moon looks like in Saudi Arabia. We'll know more at two o'clock."

Two o'clock came, and the moon said that the fast wouldn't be over till Monday.

"Such is life."

Waltre secretly admired the Muslims for actually doing such a thing. He had a hard time doing any of the "Thou shalt not" stuff. He particularly had a hard time when it came to the Muslim Virgins that paraded around the factory completely covered up.
Neurain had told him that the Muslim women could only show their face and their hands. They only show their bodies to their husbands, he'd said.

The Vietnamese woman didn’t like the idea of the Muslim women covering everything up, and neither did they like the sight of the American girls showing almost everything they had.

Waltre thought it was funny. The second generation Vietnamese girls liked to wear jeans that were tight around their arse, and even the Muslim virgins wore dresses that hugged their arses so tight that they could hardly walk!

Sex will find a way, he thought, as he watched a young Muslim girl wiggle along the white lines that signified a walking aisle.

"Give them a few more years and they'll be wearing very short shorts and skimpy halter tops." He decided.

The days numbers weren't much worse than the usual, so Waltre felt satisfied with his small part of productivity as he made his way to the exit where he hoped to find his car in one piece. The security wasn't as good outside the building as it was inside. A few cars had had their windows smashed recently, and few stereo's had been robbed.

"I hope they got that fat black woman's stereo" He thought as he went to the door.

Sam King was standing outside the door looking for a smoker.

"Hey man, do you have..."

Waltre gave him a cigarette.

"Related to B.B. King my arse." He thought as he made his way to his car. "And those fuckin chords on the piano do not make sense!"

"Three finger chords man. They are easy." Yer right.

His car windows were intact, as were the windows of the car that had spurred him into action only a day before.

"Fuckin cell phones!" He said as he turned on the ignition.

"Fuckin religion." He said as he drove out of the parking lot.

"Fuckin wasted lives!" He mumbled as he turned onto the main road and took his place in the heavy traffic.

"I'll have a good talk with my subconscious when it nags me about wasting my life again!" He thought as he drove home to his fridge full of beer.