No surprise, after this incident there wasn't much business. The stink of Rasto's demise pretty much fucked it all up for any futureVendiFun. I was lucky if I received one or two orders a day, and they were usually just for coffee, or some of that French crap. I spent the majority of my shift with the radio turned off, doing maintenance on the machines, throwing out frozen food when it expired, ordering more shipments.
I spent some time fantasizing that Rasto and Spider had been the first generation, the folks I could brag to the next generation about when they showed up. But as I already mentioned, there wasn't a next generation. I was it. The last of the Vendis, or whatever.
So then I spent my time, especially in the afternoons, appreciating the stillness. I often spaced out, gazing at the little man made lake with it's scattering of flat rocks that oozed different colors, depending on minute changes in the weather. Autumn in Ace City, turning into winter. The days got shorter, and when the sun was gone, life became somewhat colder (nothing too extreme given Ace City's Mediterranean climate), and the fancy people once again wore their fashionable coats, and I started thinking about other missions.
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THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
Fiction généraleA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
