// commented out; (stabswithspoon) wrote in __point9pi,
// commented out;
stabswithspoon
__point9pi

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our new king looks like the queen:

Meh. Don't know how I feel about this shit.


/ch2??


I'm trying to think what else needs to be explained/covered. More about Jackson's job, I guess. What's the name of the company he works for now? Do you want me to write like, the interview there? Or...? I guess it's kind of explanatory.


 


-----


 


“What do I do now, Amp?” I ask her.


My pure-white cat came inside today soiled and stained with dirt and mud caked into the roots of her fur. She seemed quite proud of herself. Now I’m rubbing her with a damp towel that I would normally use to dry myself when I come out of the shower. She also seems to be enjoying the attention, as if I don’t pay her enough attention.


“What would make you want to romp around in the mud?” I question in disbelief.


I throw the dirty towel into a large sack of other dirty clothes that I need to wash this weekend, and then sit down on the couch.


“Amp.” I say her name and she looks up at me.


“I have something to tell you,” I start.


“Come here.” I pat the cushion next to me, and she jumps up and makes herself at home with her two paws on my hip and closes her eyes and purrs as I scratch under her chin.


“I lost my job today, baby,” I say.


She keeps purring, and I don’t know what I realistically expected her to do. Give me a guilt trip, or yell and scream like The Girlfriend. Something more than act like it’s nothing.


“Sometimes I forget you’re just a cat,” I say. “Not to be insulting.”


She keeps purring and I pet her all night until I fall asleep on the couch.


When I wake up in the morning, I realize there’s nowhere for me to go. I realize there’s nothing else for me to do but move on. And no one to help me do it.


I figure I should find myself a job so that we can keep eating. Not having a high school degree really sucks at times like these. techTron to a chance on me, hiring me based on my supposed skills and the weird connection I felt with my interviewer the first time we met. I am infinitely lucky that I got a job there in the first place, and I owe them all my loyalty. But however dedicated I was to the company, I am now jobless , incomeless, and just shit out of luck.


Through no fault of my own.


Fuckers.


FUCKERS!!!!


I pace around my room, leaving tracks in the rug and drinking all the orange juice in the fridge. I put in two loads of laundry and sit on the dryer while they’re drying. I sit and think about what the hell I’m going to do.


Spurred by the heat under my ass, I grab the paper and look through the wanted ads. I can submit my resume to one of those secretary-fill-in places; a temp agency.


I have more than enough money to last me comfortably for a few months (or even more) and my rent is up to date and I’m not in any immediate danger. But without a job, without a habit to fall back on, without something to keep me going day to day, I feel lost.


I grab a pencil and start circling anything that looks promising.


I feel like I’ve been ostracized from utopia; I’m Dante, and there is no more Florence. Fucking Eve ate the apple and now I have to suffer. I refrain from sticking my head in the oven. I’ll figure something out.

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