Waste
Stage 07: "Ashes and Macintosh"
It was a nice little ceremony, the view, my brother told me. Not a big, turnout, though. I couldn't make it either, but they understood. I went to a viewing once as a kid—7 years old, I think—some distant relative we knew nothing about or cared to died so we went to pay our respects. I thought the old woman was just sleeping, so I didn't think too much of it. Dad won't have a burial, though. Sauza's gonna have him cremated, then all that's left is to spread the ashes or place him on a mantle, I guess. I wonder, if I died, would the guys have my body burned and the remains stuffed in a jar? Probably. It's a lot cheaper than finding land space for a body and they wouldn't have to maintain it; just an urn to dust off every so often. It's kinda weird, y'know? Here one minute, gone the next, yeah? Really kinda silly, y'know?
……I've gotta stop this cryin'; It's been three days… I'm a man, I can deal with it. My old man's probably looking down (or up, most likely) laughin' at me. He always laughed when I cried, sayin' stuff like, "Boy, whatcha cryin' fer? Just a scratch, son!" or "Boy, turn off them waterworks and straighten up!"
They guys have just kinda backed off, let me have my space. I let 'em know, when I finally calmed down a little. My eyes are still reall puffed up, kinda like mushrooms. This headache o' mine ain't quittin', either. I'm bein' real selfish, sittin' here locked up in my room 'n' bein' looked after but the guys, bless 'em. "I'm well off but not. Lucky, but ain't," that's what Dad used to say. I think I understand now, what he meant. I've got a home, food (every now and again), and clothes on my back, but no steady job and no steady income. Four great friends—each one I'd lay my life down for—but no family in sight to say the same.
……Oh, well.
Three days ago the best thing to happen to us in a real long time did. 1) We got an oddjob. 2) We made money—a whole lot of money. 3) We didn't spend it on booze. The buses are still running; that's a good thing. We wouldn't have been able to make it out there to work if they work, right on, public transit. Packin' up crates of apples—which sell well no matter how bad things get—at $8.65 an hour per person and workin' a two-day 12-8. Never was good at math, but I think I can figure this out. Okay… 7 times 5 is 35… 35 times 8… No, wait. 7 times 8 is 56… Carry the 2… Anyway we made roughly $700, which meant we could pay our rent on time, an easy $375, (merry Christmas, Raditz and Bardock) our bills—basic utilities clocks out at an estimate of $250—and have plenty left over for food and clothing. And what's more, ol' Bardock sent up a maintenance dude to fix our shower as a 'holiday treat.' Good ol' Saiyan, bless your furry tail.
We got our first snow of the season this morning. Nothin' much, a light dusting, an eighth of an inch. Berter was talking about making sno cones and I just laughed. It felt nice doing that again. We all had cocoa with a little scotch later that evening and just joked around for the rest of the night. Hmm…... I think… as long as everyone's here with me… I'll be alright, or at least a little better. Maybe winter won't be so bad, after all...
Happy holidays.