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Show At 3:30 two intoxicated twenty year-olds in cowboy hats walked into 7-11. They asked me what it was like to work there and asked if I saw some crazy shit. I told them that that night I had seen a sober middle aged-guy and a teenager having problems with "chicks." They said that sounded boring and one of them showed me her "country dance" without my asking. I didn't have a lot of response to that and they bought some beef jerky and energy drinks and left. Even though 7-11 coffee starts to taste like seething hatred after three cups, it still had the intended effect of keeping me awake, shaky and irritable through my shift, so I poured another cup and walked around the store and waited for it to get lighter outside. When they brought Blake's mother Laura to the morgue to identify the body, they accidentally pulled out the wrong one first. They pulled out Scott, a person Laura had never met. When they pulled back the sheet, she was relieved. This was not Blake, Blake had not drowned. There had been a mistake. Et cetera. Quickly the morgue workers realized the mistake, covered Scott's face and reeled out Blake for proper identification. Laura said Blake's body looked like it was still trying to breathe. She threw herself onto his body and tried to force CPR. It took five men to restrain her. When they did pull her off, her mouth was dripping with blood like a vampire, her eyes just as red. I had about half an hour to go, so I started tying up the trash bags and carrying them out to the dumpster where a group of magpies were gathered every morning as if they were expecting me. It was warm and everything looked like it had been spilled over by the purple, pre-sun light. The magpies especially looked shiny and full of energy covered in that kind of lighting. I looked forward to seeing them every morning because of that, and because they had attitude. They watched me as though scrutinizing my ability to throw the bags in the dumpster, only begrudgingly and at the last |