The Hardy-Mart

Thursday

"Whoever decided to put five frackin' days in a school week needs to be sued." I shoved the mop in my hands to the bucket by my feet and churned the soapy brown water angrily.

"You know, I'm pretty sure the government isn't able to sue itself. Unless... Well, I dunno. I suppose it is possible for the judicial branch to declare something unconstitutional. But if the five-day week requirement was created by the Supreme Court, then IS it possible for someone to sue them? And if so, what happens if that court case is taken to the Supreme Court? What then? Is that even possible? I suppose—"Parker went on and spun around in the rolling chair. He considered the different possibilities and I just stared at him.

"Shut. Up. Parker."

He stopped the chair and looked at me sheepishly, "Sorry..."

"Apology not accepted. Just for that, you mop. I hear enough of the judicial branch in American Government. You've just murdered one of my brain cells."

Parker scrunched his nose, "I've done my share of mopping this week. Remember the schedule that Mr. Hardy gave us? I have janitorial duties on Mondays and Tuesdays and you have them 'till Thursday."

"Really?" I gasped loudly, "I had no idea!"

"Hey, you know what? Rules can never be overstated."

"I can already think of eleven that can be, starting with that."

Parker stuck out his tongue at me and I flicked a bit of mop water in his direction.

"Come, on Parker! I already did Wednesday, can't you cut me some slack? Besides this shift is, like, half way over anyway."

Parker let out a long, indecisive 'hmm'. He stroked his chin slowly and leaned back in the cashier's swivel-chair. I raised my eyebrow as he made quite a spectacle in proclaiming his thinking process through motion. He leaned forward and scratched his head. He leaned back twiddled his thumbs. He leaned forward once again to tap his toes on the tile flooring.

"In this century, please?"

Parker crossed his arms, "I'm contemplating to help you and you're rushing me? That's not looking well for you."

"Nevermind that. You've had enough time to think. I'm making a decision for you. Take this and mop for me."

"Fine," He hopped off the swivel-chair and started walking toward me, "Only if you do something for me."

"And what is that?"

"My grandma's coming to visit on Saturday, so I want you to take my shift that day for me. Don't forget I'll be taking over tomorrow for your shift."

"Aw, come on! I was going to use my weekend for something!"

"Your choice."

I grumbled a bit and churned the mop some more in the murky liquid, "Alright. But only because I hate mopping. I hope you and your grandma have barrels of fun, because I sure as hell won't"

"Oh, we will. Don't worry."

I tossed the dripping mop at him. And he stumbled to catch it—and got a face-full of the soapy water as the mop strands slapped him.

"Urgh," He groaned, "Don't you ever do anything nicely?"

I didn't answer. I was too busy twirling in the swivel-chair.