Night Shift - Chapter One

At 9:47 pm he flung another beer from the case and cracked it with the ease of an expert. “gotta stay awake for 5 more hours” he slurred in a guttural mumble. Tomorrow’s tomorrow was the first of two nights he would be needed to stay awake when he was used to sleeping. “gotta get used to it Jay” the dog Jay, startled out of sleep, looked up at him wide eyed “if they expect me to be on my best behavior and work well than nights sure isn’t the best way to start off. Ah fuck it!” at that he gulped down the rest of the bottle and reached for another. “What do they think? That I’ll kill someone if I go in drunk? How else is a guy supposed to rest his nerves.”

Little did the man know that was exactly what they thought. His world was far too small for his own good and he had no idea just how many eyes were watching him. “He’ll fuck it up I’m certain of it.” a dark skinned man with a full goat-tee and glasses arrogantly poised stated so matter-of-factly the rest of the room would have broken out with laughter had they any sense of humor what-so-ever. Nooked In the corner of the long rectangular room a dark suit wearing a man stated “I wouldn’t be so certain Emmett. Underestimating ones prey is a most unwise course of action.” Emmett’s eyes rolling behind their lids were the only response necessary to reaffirm his position.

A fresh beer cracked the man thought how funny it was to read a book about a depraved alcoholic and resonate while drinking. “Perhaps we can all relate” he thought “or perhaps I’m insensitive, or perhaps I’m an alcoholic.” The only option he rejected outright was that he was insensitive. It was his excessive sensitivity that made drinking such an attractive demon. When looking back on all the times in his life where he had done something momentous it was due to the influence of alcohol. Some may find this disquieting but some take valium and anti-depressants daily. This man just took alcohol in consistent patterns, cigarettes occasionally, and marijuana daily. The type of man who works harder than is healthy for himself and thinks in the same fashion, has decided that life is a game and a merciless one at that and for this he feels shame. Every time he acknowledges that opinion he thinks of those starving African children on TV infomercial’s; those are the people who should think life is cruel but apparently don’t.Occasionally, while washing the dishes he would think “Maybe cynicism really is an invention of the rich.” and sometimes the man thought he would be better off going to see someone and find out if he were really crazy. He thought he probably was after all it ran in the family. Also his consistent paranoia of being watched by secret men was suggestive. However he didn’t make the normal mistakes that crazy people make. He thought things out, followed through, only he had so many parts to his personality that were able to take the fore front at the drop of a hat, and they were inevitable to overwhelm anyone dealing with them.