Forgotten Pines: The Chronicle of the Kodnikado

Part 7; I got a freakin job

Part 7; I got a freakin job

Donny
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"Don't blow anything up. Don't start any fires. And don't get yourself nabbed". Cemre said in a rush before he left me outside of the ice cream parlor. "And don't kill anyone!" He called before the door closed behind him.

Jeez!

I wasn't that insane.

I was simply creative.

"What to do". I mumbled while I tapped my chin and took in the nearby shops. There were a few laundromats, cloth stores, and bakeries in the area. But nothing remotely eye catching.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and continued down the sidewalk I was currently subjected too.

"Look at that- more bakeries!"

This street had more candy shops then a mall.

"Boring. Boring. Bor--uuuu".

There was a shack at the end of the roadstrip; sitting at a distance from all the other shops. It was a rustic little place with an ancient billboard tapestryed over the swing in doors. It looked kind of like a saloon from those old western movies.

For a flicker of a moment I felt my hopes rise until I read the sign.

Spencer's pawn Collectory.

A pawn shop.

Well...it's better then nothing.

Tho, an old real life saloon would have been better.

I cut across the street, and not even checking to see if the place was open, I went inside.

I wasn't really sure what I had been expecting, but when I stepped through the swingy doors a cloud of dust rose and something really weird smelling hit me in the nose.

It was strong enough to make my eyes water.

"I ain't got the room for more junk if that's why your here". A creaky voice called out from the back of the store.

I skimmed my way through the maze of junk piled shelves, old cartons of CD's, and a huge collection of disfigured statues; like the one Uncle Gavin had in his living room.

Eventually I managed to find the back counter, and the source of that creaky old voice. It's owner was a squat little man with wild grey hair balding in the middle, and huge glasses set on the tip of his bulbous nose.

He was hunched over the counter reading.

"Read the sign kid". He rasped. He pointed a long bony finger at a stained plank of wood hanging next to the counter.

I had to squint my eyes just to make out what the sign said.

No more loans.

"Er...kay". I scratched the top of my head and ackwardly glanced around. "I'm not really here to sell or pawn or whatever it is you don't want me to do".

I jumped when his book slammed shut.

"Your not here for money?" He questioned suspiciously.

"No". I drawled.

His scowling expression turned into- what I assumed- was a smile. He shuffled out from behind the counter. "You here for a job than?"

"No".

"You buying something?"

"No".

His smile disapeared. "Why you here than?"