A Rumble in the Ceiling

This short story was originally published 5/8/2018.

"Wait! You're leaving me here alone?" Daniel asked as he trailed several feet behind his boss. "Like, alone...alone?"

He couldn't. He wouldn't.

"It's been a slow day. This late in the afternoon, no one's coming in to get a puppy. Just do what you usually do. We'll return before lock-up."

Daniel was a high school senior several months into his first real job. Due to his love of animals, he stopped at an animal shelter two towns over and donated dog food when an elderly blonde woman in the back office candidly mentioned an open spot on their payroll. As luck would have it, Daniel was earning slightly above average grades in school and could take part in the "half and half" program; where students attended their mandatory classes for half of the day and then went to work for the rest of that time. However, if students failed to maintain a certain number of hours, or if their grades slipped, they'd be removed from the program. Daniel wasn't having any luck finding a job and was days away from getting kicked out of "half and half," and jumped at the opportunity.

The animal shelter hired him without an interview, and the reason became obvious as his first week began. Daniel already knew the shelter was in a rough neighborhood; known for heavy crimes including drug dealing, theft and burglary and the occasional drive-by shooting due to gang violence. That didn't deter the young 18-year-old because he needed the hours clocked just as much as he needed the extra money in his wallet. It was the condition of the building that made him question his own motives and take a shower at the end of every shift. The place was filthy, smelly and in desperate need of dozens of repairs. So much so that thousands of roaches called it home. He learned that it survived on donations alone, which left very little room for improvements. Daniel assumed the location, the rickety looking building and the ignorant, pre-conceived idea about all Pitbulls being vicious is what kept potential adopters from stopping by on a regular basis.

"Yeah, but what if someone comes in and wants to adopt? I don't know how to file the paper work and apply for the licenses. I'm just a day laborer," Daniel almost pleaded.

His boss, a much taller man with a grotesque looking beard, stopped and turned to face him. Jim loomed over Daniel by about six inches of height and twenty pounds of girth. He could double as a pirate in low budget movies if he wanted to. Jim wasn't a bad boss in terms of delegating work load and handing out repercussions for poor job performance, but Jim was an asshole in every other aspect. It was obvious, especially to Daniel, that Jim peaked in high school and burned out before completing college. These days, he wore faded ripped jeans, silly Hawaiian shirts unbuttoned above band t-shirts, and a backwards baseball cap that was washed once every six months. The ensemble gave off the presence of wanting to seem cool and hip to any teenagers unfortunate enough to walk through the door.

Jim glared at Daniel with black, beady eyes. "I already told you. No one's coming in this late in the afternoon to look at our selection of dogs and cats."

"Or the deformed rabbits with paralyzed hindlegs," Sarah, an overweight mid-30's co-worker added. "You can't forget about them."

"Right," Jim scoffed. He was sarcastic and growing annoyed. Rushed. "Finish with the sick room. Check on everyone's food and water, and start the dishes in the kitchen. If we're not back for whatever reason by then, straighten up the lobby until we get back. Lock the door when business hours are over. We'll pay you for the extra time. Just hold the fort down while we do this."

An animal needed rescuing. The perfect cover story that everyone in the shelter knew to be a false narrative. Jim was cheating on his wife with Sarah, and Sarah was desperate for love and attention. Whenever the urge surged through their bodies, a 'stranger' would anonymously call in an injured animal report, and off they'd go in their lime green work van to save the day. If only they'd remember to toss the used condoms instead of hiding them in the van for other employees to discover weeks later.