Chutes and Chutes
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Spitefully, the sun does rise.
Ethan hangs up the phone, removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “We've lost another staff member.”
“Was it Cobe?”
“No,” Ethan sighs. “Seth is gone.”
“Who?”
“Mister Insanity.”
“No shit. That guy?”
“They found his body in a cheap motel in St. Paul, Minnesota.” He shakes his head. “The ‘official’,” Ethan makes quote marks in the air with his fingers, “cause of death was a heart attack. But the investigation is suggesting suicide.” Setting his glasses on his desk, he wonders aloud. “Who knew you could actually drink yourself to death on Fuzzy Navels? They said the room was just covered in orange peels.”
“Well if there were such a thing as 'death by cheerleaders', working those hotlines would certainly be a lot more fun.” I turn the page of the newspaper I’m pretending to read. “Hey, he only made it eight months,” I reflect. “How did he get a week of vacation already?”
“When someone asks to take a week off to go spend it in St. Paul, Minnesota, I don’t ask too many questions. They’re pretty fucked up.” Ethan swivels in his chair to look out the window. “Still, eight months is somewhat of an improvement,” Ethan admits.
“Aren't you getting these people pre-hire physicals?”
Ethan sighs. "Don't you ever get sick of this?"
"This what?"
"This," he says, gesturing around him. "Predator Press."
"Every day," I says. "What are you saying?"
"I think it's time for a breather."
"You mean quit posting for a while? Maybe going out and getting a life? Getting the sun on me? Maybe getting laid?"
"Yeah."
"Who needs that crap?"
"Fuck, lately I'm within inches of just deleting the whole goddamned thing."
"Ethan, I'm almost certain I've repeatedly pointed out how lazy I am. The real world is no place for the likes of me." I put down the newspaper. "I went to the grocery store one time and let me tell you, it was a fucking nightmare. People kept waking me up bumping shopping carts into me --that place was full of jerks.
"I think it's over. At least for a while."
"Well," I sigh. "At least we left on a high note."
[LOBO]
Spitefully, the sun does rise.
Ethan hangs up the phone, removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “We've lost another staff member.”
“Was it Cobe?”
“No,” Ethan sighs. “Seth is gone.”
“Who?”
“Mister Insanity.”
“No shit. That guy?”
“They found his body in a cheap motel in St. Paul, Minnesota.” He shakes his head. “The ‘official’,” Ethan makes quote marks in the air with his fingers, “cause of death was a heart attack. But the investigation is suggesting suicide.” Setting his glasses on his desk, he wonders aloud. “Who knew you could actually drink yourself to death on Fuzzy Navels? They said the room was just covered in orange peels.”
“Well if there were such a thing as 'death by cheerleaders', working those hotlines would certainly be a lot more fun.” I turn the page of the newspaper I’m pretending to read. “Hey, he only made it eight months,” I reflect. “How did he get a week of vacation already?”
“When someone asks to take a week off to go spend it in St. Paul, Minnesota, I don’t ask too many questions. They’re pretty fucked up.” Ethan swivels in his chair to look out the window. “Still, eight months is somewhat of an improvement,” Ethan admits.
“Aren't you getting these people pre-hire physicals?”
Ethan sighs. "Don't you ever get sick of this?"
"This what?"
"This," he says, gesturing around him. "Predator Press."
"Every day," I says. "What are you saying?"
"I think it's time for a breather."
"You mean quit posting for a while? Maybe going out and getting a life? Getting the sun on me? Maybe getting laid?"
"Yeah."
"Who needs that crap?"
"Fuck, lately I'm within inches of just deleting the whole goddamned thing."
"Ethan, I'm almost certain I've repeatedly pointed out how lazy I am. The real world is no place for the likes of me." I put down the newspaper. "I went to the grocery store one time and let me tell you, it was a fucking nightmare. People kept waking me up bumping shopping carts into me --that place was full of jerks.
"I think it's over. At least for a while."
"Well," I sigh. "At least we left on a high note."
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