The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Lion, The Witch, And The Audacity Of This B*tch

I knew everything went south the moment everything went south. I know that super hindsight as a superpower is lame and all, but my other option was to see people's future by looking them in the eyes, and that's a protagonist's power, and I ain't about that life. 

As for why I have super hindsight, let's just say that it is a deal I now regret. Turns out you can just buy a Klondike bar anywhere and don't have to stake your existence on it like the commercials say.

"What was that?" says Leila-Sue, still holding her arm like someone waiting for a blood transfusion. 

"What was what?" I say, faking ignorance. 

"That harrowing scream," she says. "Like someone calling for help, just beyond that weird vending machine." 

"No, nothing of the sort," I say. "Maybe it was the freezer condenser starting up. It does make a weird, scream-like sound when starting up." 

And that is a fact that might as well be a truth. Before having this dream to become a Customer Service Rep, I had a very different dream: refrigeration engineer. Meaning, fixing fridges. I mean, plumbers get all the hot milfs all the time, and air conditioner repairmen tend to be murderers more often than not. A fridge repairman? I thought they could blend in nicely, not being noticed, and living a quiet life. 

Only, I didn't account for people leaving cut up body parts inside their fridges in broad daylight. Seems like being a fridge repairman is the best way to find out who is a cannibal. You just open fridges all day and see a perfectly cut face staring back at you next to the eggs and cheese. 

And before you ask: yes, most rich folks are cannibals. Humans are the most dangerous game, after all.  

Leila-Sue, however, doesn't seem to buy it, as she, still clutching her arms like a toddler showing where Little Timmy bit them, because Little Timmy's family are the owners of a huge medical facility and can get super cheap meat with utmost discretion, thus giving him a taste of human flesh that it is not satisfied by mere cold corpses, and what were we talking about? Kinda got lost. Again, every rich folk is a cannibal. That's how they keep their teeth white. 

"No, I reckon it was a scream," she says, putting her ear against the vending machine. 

Lucky for me, only the sweet humming of that 12v gear motor can be heard. Great for drinks, but not that good for limbs.  

"You must be hearing things," I say. 

She looks at me like one would look at the sun — with wonder, contempt, and the feeling that it is gaslighting you. No, I will not apologize for my pun. I intend my puns like the man I am. 

"Of course, I heard things, and the thing I heard was a scream," she says. "And it definitely came from behind this thing. What did you call it? Ve-ending machine?" 

Her eyes are sincere, and yet so dumb. She reminds me of a puppy standing on her own urine, desperate, and cross-eyed. "You've never seen a vending machine?" 

"I was homeschooled," she says, all while tapping the side of the vending machine. 

"Wasn't your whole backstory thing about you coming home from school to find your parents dead?" 

"I was in my room taking a test," she says, now licking the vending machine. In any other moment, I would remind her how many germs and bacteria would be sitting there, making bear and other icky stuff, but let's be real, nobody ever buys LaCroix consciously. And much less one that only seems to sell LaCroix Pure, which is basically pretentious water, something that only cannibals would drink. 

Hu, that's interesting though. Why does a school that can't even buy Dr. Pepper has a LaCroix vending machine that only sells flat LaCroix of all things? Seems suspiciously like plot to me, which means, I have to get out of here, asap.