Insane. Absolutely insane. That man knows I deserve more than fucking 2 dollars an hour. How am I suppose to survive after high school? To drive me insane, that's what he wants. Jerry Porfirio was a handsome young man, around 17 or 18 years of age. He looked like Paul McCartney, if anyone; slightly saggy eyes, with a dark brown bowl cut. He often complained about his job, because it was not one of his favorite things to do. Although he admired the restaurant, he often thought about changing his career. He wouldn't want to spend his whole life working there, though. Jerry walked on the grey, stained sidewalk permeating the tan building, and looked up at the orange clouds floating above. Jerry loved children, and he wished he could get a better job to work with them.
Why don't I become a teacher? I guess I don't know enough about school work for that. Maybe I could start my own business. And Michael could help me. Yeah, I think I'd like that. Where is he? Jerry squinted his eyes and shielded them from the sun with his hands. He looked up and down the road, not spotting the purple car. After around 10 seconds, Jerry gave up and walked over to the stained building, looking for somewhere to lean. After a long day of standing around, his legs were understandably tired. At last, the bug pulled around the corner, and screeched to a stop in front of the sidewalk. If there was one thing Michael loved, it was his car. Not a dent on it, and cleaned every Sunday. The purple bug almost looked glittery in the light of the street lamp.
"C'mon, man, where have you been?" Jerry asked his friend, and picked up his case.
"Sears, man. They have me working late shifts now."
"You're full of it." Jerry said talking through the window, obviously mad at his friend for being late.
"Whatever, get in. You have school tomorrow, and your dad is pissed enough at me already." Michael reached over and popped open the door.
Jerry got in, and rolled up his window, for it was cold when the sun went down. Michael drove Jery to school and work, and then back to Jerry's house after.
"I'm really tee'd off today. Guess what? The idiot didn't give me that promotion. He said he would." Jerry said, looking out the window at the lit houses.
"Thats horrible."
"Yeah, he said he would!"
"I know, Jerry."
Michael didn't know if it was the right time to tell Jerry about his promotion. He was a security guard at Sears, and the manager seemed to favor him. Jerry might want to know later, preferably after school, because Jerry wasn't in a good mood lately. Michael thought that Jerry should work somewhere else, like at Macy's, or the McDonald's. The only problem was, Jerry loved his work. Jerry loved children. He just hated his boss. Michael didn't even know why Jerry hated his boss. Steve seemed like a nice enough man; he was reasonable, kind, and was a good worker.
"Jerry, get up, we're almost there." said Michael. Jerry often slept in the car; his job seemed to work him pretty hard. I wonder if they have him in that creepy costume anymore. Gosh, I can't see how that doesn't haunt the workers when they sleep. Michael started thinking about the restaurant, and his history with it. Michael did this weird thing when he thought hard about something, sort of like a self inflicted flashback.