Onestop Shop: Daily Short Stories

Day 0: It's Shit

Thomas strummed the wood planks of the bench with one hand and used the other to hold down his about-to-explode manilla folder; he glanced at his watch, waiting for the train that would decide his future. The midday sun was irritatingly bright and scorching hot; a heavy wind blew across the train tracks occasionally, delivering a gush of putrid, hot air. Thomas baked in the heat; his freshly-drycleaned shirt was drenched in sweat, the fabric sticking to his skin. When dry gusts rushed through the station, his tie slapped him in the face, and he leaned over his business folder, preventing it from belching out his important notes for his out-of-town meeting. Thomas split his attention between his watch and the wind until; he kept himself stimulated by strumming the bench and humming; however, the end of his career walked towards him.

A woman, Jerry, came and sat beside Thomas; she strummed the air with an ornate fan. Cool gusts hit Thomas; it would've been relieving had it not caused his folder to rumble. Thomas hunched over his documents and scowled at Jerry. The toot of the train piped in the distance, and the two fried in the smoldering heat.

"It's shit," Thomas muttered. How could she sit next to him? Sitting was for the ones sweating their butts off instead of blowing away their hard work. This woman must have been another slacker, they had always surrounded Thomas. While other kids were wasting their time doing what they wanted, Thomas spent his time doing what he needed, advancing his career so he could get enough money to do whatever he wanted. The only time he ever had an issue was when he was introduced to guitar, but other than that, he did his work no matter how many piles of papers his boss, coworkers, or teachers stacked on his desk. Thomas shielded his work from an incoming drafty breeze; if he lost his documents, he'd never get promoted and one day see the end of the endless paper stacks.

"It's shit," Jerry said, gagging at the sight of Thomas's documents. Jerry was thrilled the uptight wage slave was miserable. Although permit-chasing cops and IRS agents hounded her, she smirked, believing this confirmed her way was best.

"Puh-lease, it's shit." Thomas had always hated the gloating, free-loader type. He almost lost his job because of one; a coworker had bragged about a gig they did with their friends over the previous weekend; even though they said, "It was shit," they laughed. Thomas had listened in, frowning at his desk; he had to prove he was better, that the only way to escape the endless piling of papers was to grind them out. That night, Thomas bought a guitar but had not ended up leaving his room for days; strumming the chords in his musty room became his life. Eventually, he had pulled himself back to his desk piled to the ceiling with assignments, waiting for a day like today that could make him possibly be able to never work again. The humid wind slapped him and Jerry across the face.

"It's shit, huh?" Jerry said, putting her bag on the floor to use a two-handed fanning technique, sending cool air surging toward her naysayer. Just because she's had a few dozen failed business ventures didn't mean this one would. She had gotten close to making it big, she played guitar in a band, but after performing and practicing for months, they betrayed her. They said, "You're serious about this? It's shit," and left her dream to die. The train's horn shook the earth.

Thomas began to flail his arms to prove the futility of fans, and the two became locked in combat. As they peacocked their superiority to one another, Thomas's folder and Jerry's bag threatened to leap onto the train tracks. The two halted their competition, but before they could secure their respective cargos, the afternoon wind sent their future goals flying. Paper danced like falling snow onto the train tracks, and their ride pulled into the station with a loud puff, turning whatever was salvageable into confetti.

The two entrepreneurs turned to one another, dreams scattered along the floor.

"This is ... it's shit," Thomas said. He sat back on the bench, strumming it like his lost love. Jerry began to do the same.

"It's shit," she said, rolling her eyes at Thomas's moves.

"Puh-lease...," They made a band to prove which was better. After each performance, they'd rant about how "It's shit," until one day Thomas admitted, "It's some good shit," but even then, they continued to bicker. 

***

Thank you for reading Day 0 of my Onestop Shop series. Day 0 is actually a short story I wrote a few months ago. I am posting it as Day 0 so that I, and others, can compare this story to future ones I write here. Day 1 will be posted sometime today, 07/07/2023, hopefully before 12:00 AM EST, but if I go overtime that is fine.

I consider one of my best works as of now, had me yearning to revise it. I revised this author's note 4 times already.  Whenever I re-read my own work I find myself questioning my decisions and the quality of my work. This story, short as it is, it took me around 4 hours, so hopefully I will be able to keep, or exceed, this quality but have it take less and less time.

Not all stories will be like this one. Unless I feel like returning to it, all stories will have different characters, genre, theme, tone, setting, plot, etc. All stories will aim to have less than 800 words, though I may go up to 1000-1500 words if I feel like 800 is too restrictive. 

The goal of Onestop Shop is to be consistent. I do as little revisions as possible. That being said, I still put my very best into each piece and hope you enjoy the stories. Let me know if there is anything in particular that you enjoyed. Thanks again, and I hope you stick around for this experiment.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments!