November 3, 2012

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I'm binging on Halloween candy, chocolate mostly, as I watch the clock tick by. I'll eat as much chocolate as I can in five minutes, and then I'll puke it up. Another five more minutes, three fingers down my throat, a couple of gags, and guilt-free. Round two turns into round three. And round three turns into round four.
Stuff
Puke
Repeat
Stuff
Puke
Repeat
As my throat becomes raw, I decide to stop. I have to get ready for work anyways.
...
It's a Sunday, and I'm working the evening shift. My mother calls me from upstairs so she can drive me, and I quickly throw my black uniform shirt on. I fluff up my strawberry blonde hair in the mirror, as I snatch my name tag from my dresser.
As I stumble up the stairs, my mom notices something. "Are you okay? You look kind of teary and red eyed."
Shit.
"Um, I don't know my eyes are just watery. Maybe it's my allergies acting up again."
"Ugh," she sighs, "you inherited your dad's unfortunate jeans."
...
As I enter work, I greet my coworker Penelope with enthusiasm. As I check into my cash register, my boss calls on me.

"Yes, Don?"
"Sit down, Kenna, I need to have a word with you." He pauses. "Oh, and shut the door while you're at it."
Great.
I sit down in his small black office, on a lounge chair. He's a pretty cool boss for the most part-he has movie posters and signed photos of actors and actresses. Standees of Captain Kirk from Star Trek and Angelina Jolie dressed up as Lara Croft.
I try to get comfortable, calming down my nerves. He's a pudgy guy, in his early thirties at least, and he has slight red hair with stubble.
He clears he throat, "Your dad called our office yesterday."
What?
"I'm sorry, what did he say?"
Don shifts his position uncomfortably. He twiddles his thumbs as if nervous. "He called to say that you can't work on the weekends that your visiting him... You should have mentioned this when you started work here a month ago."
Dad, are you fucking serious right now?
I quickly started talking about my personal life, as my face started to heat. It was the only was to explain this to Don.
"My dad doesn't live with me, and he's not accepting the fact that I'm growing up and I'm not visiting him every second weekend. He shouldn't have called the theatre. I am so SO sorry. It won't happen again."
I left Don's office feeling infuriated. Is my dad trying to get me fired?!
Buzz
Dad: Hello, are you there?
Buzz
Dad: why are you ignoring me?

Screw him.

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