video games ✘ clifford.

0.2

I stood there mildly shocked. A boy whom I barely gotten to know- not even Bill's version of gotten to know (meaning knowing the person's favorite color).

"Uh, uhm yeah uh sure." I stuttered, then scrambled around under the counter for a piece of paper. I then found an old reciept from a Pizza Delivery place. On the back I quickly scribbled my number, then signed my name.

My nails with the horribly chipped polish slid the receipt over to him. I stifled a nervous chuckle, then sat down in the rolly chair. Michael smiled at me toothlessly, and walked away, as he looked at the receipt.

A smile spread across my face as I rolled around the small space on the chair. It was amazing how easily you could make someone's day. All he did was ask me for ten specific digits, and it left a permanent smile on my face.

The clock read 1:03. When my workday ended spiked curiosity, and I rolled the chair to the right, closest to the door. I squinted my eyes to see the closing time. One in the morning. I figured either I got a break, or I didn't work until closing. There was no doubt I was stuck there until four in the afternoon though. 1:04 came along and I was picking at my nails boredly. Two boys who couldn't be older than twelve walked in, giddy as could be, change jingling in their pockets. It was cute, they were so happy because of an escape.

Escape.

Video games had become a fantasy land where anyone could take a break from regular life. It was amazing.

The kids passed and I continued picking at my nail polish. The navy blue chips fell on the shelf under the countertop. Once it was all off one nail, I would take the side of my hand and swipe it off, starting on the next. I did this until 1:17. This workday was really boring, there was nothing to do. I think it only paid more than minimum wage because of the long hours. I didn't mind, I usually stayed up three hours past close doing something completely idiotic anyway.

The bell on the door ringed, as a few burnout looking guys walked in. They had long hair, that was unbelievably greasy, scruffy beards, wrinkly clothes, and smelled of dirt and marijuana. It wasn't the most pleasant thing ever. They were laughing, saying 'dude' 'man' and 'turnt' a lot.

They were being terribly loud and annoying. But after that I remembered, I didn't know any of the policies. This is a very well run business I see, job requirement: favorite color.

As if the color green would save the situation.

Green... furby... Michael! Michael would probably know the policies. I hope so at least, he seems to know a lot more than me at this point. My eyes scanned the arcade. I couldn't spot him. Probably in the bathroom.

People were wrinkling their noses in the direction of the obnoxious burnouts. I knew I had to do something, so I pinned on the nametag I'd realized was there a few minutes ago, and walked over.

"Excuse me?" I asked them, and only one turned around. "Could you quiet down a bit? Other people are getting irritated and we want a good experience for all customers."

"Customers? We ain't spendin' no money here." one of them said.

"I believe that's called loitering, and that in fact is illegal." I said, crossing my arms and tapping my foot. These people were getting me very annoyed actually. Usually if I saw people like this on the streets or in public. I'd just do nothing more than wrinkle my nose, and walk away.

"Well okay." one said, and went back to talking with the other ones as if I wasn't there.

My mouth hung agape as I still gagged on their stench. I had never been so blatantly disrespected in my life. "I don't think you understand," I laughed, totally and amazingly done with this entire situation. "I work here, loitering is illegal, so buy something, get out, or let me call the police, because I have zero tolerance for people like you."

Then they all turned to me, and the rest of the arcade was almost silent aside from the noise the machines were making. I pointed a skinny finger to the door, my stern expression never leaving my face. Then they were gone. I sprayed air freshener.

The clock read 1:24. If every workday was this eventful, I may just enjoy it.

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this is a filler but still weedies and michael asking for them digits.