Clipped Wings

[ONE] My Life

"Oh, fuck me!" Dean grumbled, quickly standing up from the lunch table, his chair flying backwards. He grabbed a stack of napkins and wiped at the spilled soda all over his work uniform.

"You're unbelievable." Jo muttered, shaking her head as she watched the scene unfold.

"Shut up." Dean growled, furrowing his eyebrows. He tried to soak up most of the liquid, but it still left an obvious brown stain on his white shirt.

"I'm not even sure how you manage to live by yourself!" Jo laughed, covering her mouth. Dean wasn't amused.

But, before he could tell Jo to shut her mouth again, the loud speaker screeched and an unpleasant voice rang through the break room.

"Clean up in isle twelve!"

Dean winced, knowing that that was his cue to get to work. "This sucks."

"It happens to the best of us." Jo, a co-worker and his only friend, commented from across the table.

"Or to the unluckiest of us." Dean muttered, throwing away the soiled napkins. "Is it noticeable?" Dean asked, showing his shirt to Jo.

Jo quickly shook her head, changed her mind, and nodded instead. "Yeah, you're screwed."

"Thanks." Dean muttered, giving Jo his best "screw you" face. If only looks could kill.

"Clean up in isle twevle!" The loud speaker shrieked again.

"Jesus! I think we got it already!" Dean yelled, picking up his chair from the floor. "But, seriously. How can people possibly make such a mess in a freaking grocery store? The auto shop was never this messy."

Jo shrugged, crossing her arms on the table. "Apparently, people are much more complicated than cars."

"You got that right." Dean agreed, walking towards the break room's door. "See ya in a bit, sunshine."

"Catch ya in hell, bitch." Jo responded, that playful smirk on her lips.

Dean winked before slipping out the door and into the busy environment of the local grocery store.

Dean groaned when he searched through the supply closet for a mop and bucket. He honestly hated this new job with every ounce of his being. But, he got laid off recently; so, he had to make ends meet somehow and this was the easiest way. The only plus side to this job was that he didn't have to interfere with very many people. People just generally got on his nerves, that's why he worked on repairing cars for so long. Minimal communication required. Unless he got to choose between the awkward social exchanges between costumers or cleaning up a war zone of spilled pickles in isle 12. He'd take his chances with the people. Honestly, how does this crap even happen?

Dean carefully swept up the broken pieces of glass and threw them in the trash can he was carrying. He mopped up the vinegar and pickles, glad that it wasn't something difficult to clean, like, tomato sauce.

"I'm so sorry, deary! I accidentally bumped the jar with me elbow! I'm only getting clumsier with age, I swear. Oh, my goodness gracious. I can pay fer it, how much was it?" This poor, old woman explained, pulling her wallet out of her purse. Dean finished up his job before responding, not really in the mood for conversation.

"It's okay. You don't have to pay for it. Accidents happen." Dean explained, giving a tight smile.

"Oh, are ye sure? Ye're such a nice young lad. Bless ye, Amen." The old woman gave a yellow toothed smile, turning away from me and slowly pushing her cart to the next isle.