AN: Guess who's back from the grave? I am! Sorry I disappeared for awhile, I was *insert bullshitty excuse here like working and messing around with college stuff when I was actually having fun enjoying summer...* heh heh. So I know this kind of jumps around a bit in the beginning, but meh, it makes sense. Italics are my thoughts, as violent and fowl as they are. There is a bit of swearing in this fic in total, mainly in my thoughts. This would put my friends in shock in awe because I normally don't swear all that much, but, when I'm working, it's a completely different story. This is based on my life, just because I find it that fascinating. Sorry, that was sarcasm. Anyway, enjoy the first chapter of My Life in 3D.
Disclaimer: The plot is my own, but since this is a Kingdom Hearts fan-fiction, I do not own any of the characters. Except Dexter, for he is my puppet and as my puppet, he acts as I command! Mwahahahahaha. *Ahem*
Enjoy.
Some people say that time moves too quickly; that there aren't enough hours in the day, or days in the week. These are the procrastinators. These are the ones who waste precious seconds, minutes, even hours accomplishing tedious tasks. The procrastinators watch time fly by as if it were a rainbow unicorn gliding majestically on a yellow brick road. Everything important is done last minute and everything irrelevant is completed as soon as possible. There is no schedule, no worry about how their actions might and will affect their future. They live effortlessly and calm, until they remember a critical date is upon them. Then, they spend all of a few hours cramming together what could have simply been done in the span that the unicorn took them from Destiny Island to Candy Mountain. It is almost certain that everyone has been a procrastinator at least once in his or her life.
Some people say that time moves too slowly; that the weekend can't come soon enough, the approaching holiday can't arrive soon enough. These are the impatients. They can't stop for even one second and look around them and marvel in everything they're missing. There is no magical unicorn to distract them, impatients look straight ahead and keep on charging forward. The impatients all have a certain, strict schedule, to which they abide to by day and night, for every day, for every week, for every month. If one little bump in the road sets them back for even one minute, they have to rearrange their color-coded schedule to make up for lost time. They watch the clock to the very last minute to validate timing will be perfect. God forbid if an impatient is held back for only a few minutes because a higher power, a boss, for example, is running behind. It is almost certain that everyone has been impatient at least once in his or her life.
Human beings cannot be placed into two simple categories. Everyone has their own story and has lived only their own life. Yes there are procrastinators and impatients living among us, but the category another person places them into doesn't make the human who they are. Just because Max pulled an all-nighter starting and finishing a project doesn't automatically make him a procrastinator. Maybe he was in the hospital all weekend because his father was in the ER after choking on a chicken bone. Just because Minnie arrives everywhere on time carrying a tote-like-purse full of everything and anything one might possibly need incase of a random emergency does not make her an impatient. It makes her organized, well prepared, and on time.
After awhile of telling myself to give people a try, to get to know them before I analyze them, I got bored with getting to know other people. Since middle school, people would seem to seek me out and ask me for advice. Telling people to "grow a pair" has become a recent reply, to which I receive a huff of anger and a peaceful evening of solitude. I don't know how I've come to be in relationship, I don't even know how it's lasted for almost a year. But I feel like without him, I'd still be the quivering, passive mess he noticed all those months ago.
"Hello, have you found everything you were looking for today?" I smile and greet the customer as I have greeted every other customer for the past year. I'm given a grunt in reply. Great, I thought, one of those customers again. Just keep smiling and imagine them being devoured by sharks.
"Would you like your milk or water gallons in a bag?" They reply with a nod, no words. Alive. My customer was in her late thirties. At one thirty-six on a Wednesday afternoon, my guess is she's either jobless or stay at home. No kids, but there's a ring on her left ring finger. Married, maybe the kids are at day care. Thank you! You could tell right off the bat she is a smoker. Marlboro, no, maybe Virginia Slims. Hmm, I'm going to guess Marlboro smooth 100's.
She was wearing a denim jacket with black trim and a black shirt underneath. The shirt had holes, obviously from wear and tear, definitely a favorite. The lady's brown hair was unclean, and fell from the top of her head in greasy strands. Whoever she was bound to either lost a bet, felt guilty, or maimed her cat but doesn't want her to know so he is now playing the number one person she trusts the most. Tricky bastard.
Once she finished unloading her guesstimated eighty-item cart, I'm trapped in an awkward silence as I ring up her groceries and try to find room on the counter for the bags. Not to toot my own horn, but I like to think I'm a pretty good bagger. I like to optimize the small counter space we as cashiers are given, but the counter doesn't hold more than about thirteen bags, depending on who's cashiering. As I reach the sixty-third item, I notice I'm about three bags away from completely out of room.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry but I'm running out of room for your bags, would you mind loading your cart back up please?" I am going to slit your throat with this…I look to see what I'm currently holding…box of plastic spoons. Yes, your demise shall be slow and torturous. I'll flatten out the box to slit your throat and use the spoons to carve out your…
"Oh, sorry about that hon, I've been in such a tizzy this morning, going from here to there and back again. I'll even help you bag." She squeezes her way between the cart and the counter and loads her cart back up. I take back everything I ever thought of you, you wonderful, kind, fantastical…
Red solo cup, I fill you up, let's have a party, let's have a party, I love you red solo cup, I lift you up, proceed to party, proceed to…
If you even answer that goddamn call…
"Hello? Oh hey gurl, wassup? What? Oh no he didn't. No he did not."
I will maim you with those plastic spoons as sharks rip your limbs apart and red fire ants eat out your heart you jerk. I had faith in you and you ripped it to shreds. I will send you to the flaming pits of hell all because you answered your phone. Bitch.
I went on bagging the groceries, typing in prices, weighing produce, and scanning boxes. Sometimes, I really hate my job. Sometimes.
"Anything else on the bottom of your cart?" I smile and inwardly roll my eyes as she scoffs, and shakes her head. Well, it looks like you're too busy to take care of your own stuff, so why don't I be an awesome cashier and load your cart back up for you. You're such a bitch I think I hate you. I think I hate you so much.
"Oh, and I'll take a carton of Marlboro 100's, the smooth pack. You got that hon? A carton of Marlboro smooth 100's. Now, as I was saying gurl…" I tuned her out as I made my way to customer service to get the chick her cigs. I didn't actually hate her as a being, I just hated her type. After working a little over one full year, and counting, at the local grocery store, I've got quite the list of pet peeves performed by frequent customers. The sad part, I know for a fact I'm not the only employee with a list.
I repeated the order to the guy behind the desk. Poor Dexter, he's the only guy in Customer Service, and he's such an awesome guy. He manages the schedule for all of us forty, no exaggeration, cashiers, and the other fifteen customer service people. He is fair in 95% of the decisions he makes and sympathizes with us. One look at my customer chatting it up on her phone, and he shook his head and handed over the seventy-ish dollar carton of happy sticks.
Back at my register, I ring up the carton, bag it, and finish loading up her cart. You're still on the goddamn phone, talking about god knows what, I'm done talking to you. I'm just going to stand here looking pretty and not give a flying shit when you pay and get out. For your sake, you should hurry the hell up and get out. Now.
She seems to feel my burning, nonchalant gaze and decides to get with the program and hand over her store card, the thingy you use to get discounts sometimes, and slides her card. I scan the card and hand it back and watch her slide her card again. And again. And a-freaking-gain. When she glances up at the screen that reads part of her list, number of items, and balance, she gasped.
"What in the world did I buy?" I don't know, I was only paying half attention, shouldn't you know since you're paying for it all? Your happy sticks don't work until you're outside of the store. I stood there, passively, as she attempts to slide her card through the machine again. Finally, she tells the person on the phone that she's in the check out line and she'll call her 'gurl' back in a few minutes. "Here hon, my card don't slide." I shivered, her grammar sucked. Most of the customer's grammar sucked. It pained me so, it felt like I was being pierced by a poison-tipped steak right through my heart. So? What the hell do you want me to do with it? I look at the card. Oh, EBT, food stamps. Got it.
"For some reason, the magnetic strips in these particular cards don't work as well as other bank or credit cards do. I can just type the number in." Good thing it's just a Wednesday and we're not too busy.
A few minutes later, she's punching her pin into the number pad and redialing her previous call as she pays for the taxed items, those plastic spoons will be covered in your black blood you monster. I hand her the receipt and she's off on her merry way out the door.
I take in a deep breath, count to eight and release. It's one forty-five, only three and a half more hours to go. I tell myself as I take a swig from my water bottle. There were four other cashiers working at the moment. Cloud was on register four, I was on three, Selphie on two, and Leon on register one. I laughed my ass off when I saw Leon on the express, fifteen items or less line. He hated that line with a burning passion. I know for a fact Dexter put him on there just for entertainment. I did say that he was 95% fair.
Cloud was waiting for me to come join him at the end of my register. The Bargain Barrel's, I hate that stupid name, employee dress code consisted of black or tan pants, no jeans, with either the god-awful, vomit-green polo, or black sweatshirt. Somehow, Cloud always managed to look mouth-drooling, damn fine in his tan pants and vomit-green polo. On him, the green looks somewhat okay. He stood at five foot eight, his blonde bead-head spikes giving him an extra three to four inches. His eyes were blue, sky blue. I had heard that when he was birthed, his mother saw him as an angel, therefore naming him Cloud. She was also on a pretty high dose of painkillers.
"Hey, Cloud, how was Destiny Islands? He had told me that he was visiting his grandparents last weekend. He's so lucky they own a beach house. He stuck his hands in his front pockets and leaned back on the soda fridge thingy.
"It was pretty cool, the weather was perfect, spent some time with the old folks, stuck my feet in the sand, nothing really spectacular." He ran a hand through his hair; oh how I hated it when he did that. We've been best friends since as long as I can remember, he knows how much his hair fascinates me; how it can be so naturally spikey yet incredibly smooth. "How was your weekend?"
I scoffed and leaned against the magazine rack at the end of my register. We were lucky it wasn't busy. I hated it when people interrupted our little side conversations to ask the most idiotic questions. "You know very well that I spent my weekend working. I barely have a day off, and if I ever do, I always have errands to run. I've never really had a true day off since I don't know when." I know I was complaining and exaggerating a little, but I hadn't had the chance to go to the beach in a few years and I was a little jealous.
"Awh, poor wittle Sora, being worked to the bone by the big bad Bargain Barrel corporate meanies." I fake punched him in the arm as we both laughed. He knows as well as I do that the only reason I work as much as I do is because I like to do expensive things and go to expensive places. "So what are you saving up for this time?"
"It's August remember? I'm saving up for the fall semester. Community college is the least expensive way to go, but it's still expensive for a minimum wage cashier." He and I know that that was also complete bullshit. My parents both work for the military, my father makes triple digits, and mom is in the $90,000 a year range. Money is of no issue in my family, but I believe, along with my dad, that I will get more out of college if I am the one paying for it.
"But I thought you were getting scholarships through here?"
"I am, but they only cover $500, I need to be able to make up the rest. Plus, I need extra for gas, books, supplies, and other necessities." Cloud nodded his head in understanding. I don't like going around gloating how loaded my family was, but I also didn't go around pretending I was dirt poor. I work for what I want and I make sure I don't waste what I earn. We aren't rich, just upper middle class.
You could say Cloud was just middle class. His parents earn enough to keep them happy, one family vacation a year. I was jealous of Cloud, jealous that his parents were happy and rarely ever fought. I was jealous with how well they all fit together. There were no skeletons in their closet, no secrets, and no drama.
"Hiya Cloud! Where have ya been?" I inwardly cursed and sighed as Selphie's voice squeaked into our conversation. It wasn't that I didn't like Selphie, she was a complete sweetheart, she meant no wrong, but she could just get very annoying, very quickly.
She was wearing tan pants, flares, with a brown butterfly belt complete with a giant, silver butterfly belt buckle, topped with the black sweatshirt. She had a white headband decorating her light-brown hair. Silver hearts dangled from her pierced ears and a matching pendant hung from silver chain around her neck. Black eyeliner was drawn to near perfection around her bright-green eyes. Her green nametag standing proudly on her chest announcing she was a minor. Both Cloud and I had black tags because we had been BB's slaves for over a year. Ew. At least we had each other.
"Hey Selph, I was visiting my old folks down on the islands. I just got back on Monday, Dexter had given me Tuesday off to unpack and unwind from my crazy sexcapades with the wild and drunk college babes." It's a wonder why he hasn't been fired yet for his fowl potty mouth. Dick. The expression on Selphie's face was just downright priceless. It was a mixture of shock, utter horror, and disappointment. Oh if only she knew he was gay. Then she would stop fantasizing about him. If I had a dime for every single time she tried to use me to get to Cloud, I'd have about, one dollar.
Noticing Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding over at the end of register one, I stalked my way over to him. As he noticed my signature red, green, yellow, and black Nikes coming closer, he looked up at me and smirked. Oh Leon, you think you're so sly. You think you're so irresistible to both men and women. I bet if you cut off all of your precious hair, you'd look just like a brooding sissy instead of having some dark, threatening edge to your glares.
"Hey Leon." That's right, pretty boy, I've got you cornered now.
"Hey." Dance my pretty monkey, dance.
"So, I heard about this radical party that went down on Friday night." His stormy, gray eyes twitched slightly. I laughed inwardly. Your discomfort pleases me greatly.
"Oh? And what happened at this party that, it seems you assume I attended?" You're so cute when you're trying to find a way out of a trap.
"Well, I heard from a little birdie that somebody happened to drink all of the spiked punch, then jumped onto a table, and started stripping while attempting to sing Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. I laughed my ass off. At that moment, I was extremely ecstatic that we didn't have any customers to distract us from this precious, rare moment. Under his long, brown bangs, I saw Leon's cheeks turn a bright pink. He's blushing. Oh Lordy Lord Almighty, I got the emotionless rock to blush! Score one for Sora!
"Who told you?" He muttered with a very dark, threatening undertone. He was wearing black pants, the black sweatshirt, a white belt with silver studs and black boots. He wore a silver chain around his neck, the small, horizontal scar above the bridge of his nose crinkling. I still can't figure out if you're gay or not.
"As I said, a little birdie told me. Meaning I can't and won't tell you who I heard it from. Sorry Leo but my lips are sealed." I turned my back and made my way back to my register, humming the chorus to the song that will now forever haunt the brooding, blushing brunet.
"Oh Sora," Shit, he followed me back, he wasn't supposed to follow me back, he was supposed to recognize I have a power over him, that I can tell anybody what I know. "One more thing," I gulped as I turned back around and gazed up at his stormy eyes. I knew Selphie and Cloud were watching. Hell, even that old lady in the produce section eight aisles away was watching. "I saw what happened on Tuesday." Confusion. What happened on Tues- sudden realization, my eyes grew the size of dinner plates. Oh shit, you bastard.
I stood there, mouth agape in front of register three as Leon was told to sign off and clock out. It was two o'clock and his replacement was here to relieve him. You lucky son of a bitch. Leon laughed his way out of the store, I felt like running after him, finding out what he knew.
There was no way he knew what happened on Tuesday, we were, I mean, I was in the privacy in my own home.
My thoughts jumbled as business picked back up again. Customers came and went through my line. Before I knew it, the time was five fifteen and I was told to sign off, clock out and go home. Before leaving, I checked out the floral department. I know I'm a guy, but an old friend of mine once told me, "If everyone is too busy running around here and there, who stops and smells the flowers? They try so hard to be pretty. If people took the time and appreciated them a little more, maybe, just maybe, people would learn to appreciate one another better."
AN: Hey guys, I know you probably despise me with a burning passion for just kind of dropping Toyland. Like I said at the beginning, it was based off of a dream and I took too long to write it, so my feelings for it just kind of died. I know there's a lot more swearing in this one, I promise you I am not like this at all out-loud, and yes this is based off of my everyday life. It's just that fascinating. I keep saying at work, how much I hate being a cashier. So instead of ranting about it in my head, I'm turning it into a Kingdom Hearts fanfic! Yay! I'll never run out of ideas! I feel like leaving off with a Dr. Seuss quote. Guess which story this comes from:
"UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing's going to get better,
It's not."
It's one of my favorite quotes from him; the man's a genius.
Well, I hope you enjoyed this little ramble, don't expect an update for about a month, sorry, I'm not a fast updater without the right kind of encouragement *ahem*
Soooo….anywho, I hope you liked this first chapter of My Life in 3D, constructive criticism is accepted with open arms!
-Scarlet Rose
