Punchline

Minions of Evil

I hate the boss...I hate him so much.

I jammed the plunger into the hole of the men's bathroom toilet bowl. It reeked of a sour, pungent smell that could only come from this sickening restaurant. I never thought that holding my breath could be such a simple chore.

After pushing the toilet knob with the toes of my foot, and watching it swirl down the bowl, I took no time to rush out of the stall. I gasped for fresh air, wheezing in grave desperation. We've got to hire a plumber...or at least install an air freshener.

Just as I was catching my breath, I hear a faint sound of pitter patter in the back. I turn my head to meet eyes with an senior citizen doing his business in the urinal. It was safe to say he was mortified.

"What? You've never seen a girl in the men's bathroom?" I snap threateningly.

He turns away, speechlessly before continuing his task.

I strip the gloves off my hands, discarding it to the side. I nearly gagged at the plastic drenched in urine water, rushing over to the sink to sterilize my contaminated hands. I'm no germaphobic, but who know what could junk could lurk in this restaurant. I'm surprised the health inspector hasn't shut this place down.

After a while of washing my hands repeatedly, my forearm slides across my forehead to wipe off the sweat.

Instead of firing me, the boss decides that there's a better punishment. That is...a trip to the men's bathroom. I think it's safe to say that he absolutely hates my guts.

And to think I was doing so well...until that malicious beast decides to show up near the end of my shift.

He deserved a good ol' beat up. That'll teach him some manners!

But it only gave Boss an excuse to discipline me, after all.

As I continued to fantasize revenge on the brutal authoritarian, my phone begun to vibrate in the fold of my apron. I quickly lash the device out, swiping my lock screen open. And as expected, the she-devil decides to make an entrance into my loophole of despair.

Aunt

Pipr Hrry! Its a emergenzi

I take a moment to absorb my aunt's idiocy. This looks like it was written by a first grader...a drunk first grader. Which is probably her state right now.

Along with rolling my eyes, I read the memo several times to decode her subtle message. Emergency being that she can't reach the remote? Or that she's gotten into a tragic accident?

After a few moments of inner debate, I finally came to a decision. Better safe than sorry. I thought with a shrug.

Stepping into the kitchen, I hung my apron over the hook before reaching for my bag in the locker.

"Hey, hey, hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Biting my lip, I wade in a pool of my luck.

And another one of Lucifer's subjects arrives. Great.

I turn my head to meet the familiar, portly, middle aged man who owned this run down restaurant. This man was the ideal "scurvy." If I knew any pirates, they would bow down to this glorified ape.

Sighing in exhaustion, I pull up the message my lovely aunt had recently sent.

He leans in forward, squinting his eyes, and baring his teeth every so slightly. The alternating change of white and gold retracted my attention for a bit. That and the smell of tobacco radiating off his greased tank top.