Lovesick Radio (IV)
"For the last time young man, I demand a refund…yada yada yada…"
The blonde apathetically tried to tune out whatever the old lady was nagging on about. "Next!" he called to the next customer in line. The old lady gaped and continued to sputter nonsense.
"Why I never-! Your boss will certainly be hearing about this, you rude, inconsiderate child! I say, hasn't anyone ever told you to respect your elders?" grandma scolded, furiously flailing the tube of hair growth cream that she wanted refunded. It obviously looked empty and used.
"Look granny, I really can't do anything about your problem. This is the checkout counter and there are a billion people waiting in line behind you. And quite frankly, I just don't give a shit about why the cream didn't work on you. I suggest you just be happy with the hair on top of your head and prance on outta here," he retorted.
God, he hated all the pesky customers dumping their lousy complaints on him. Heck, he hated working at stupid Wal-Mart altogether but he needed this job to pay for Mattie's stupid ukulele which apparently costs 3,000 bucks.
This totally blows, dude…
By this time, the old lady was openly requesting for the manager to the other cashiers. Alfred groaned and pushed his glasses up. He readied his eyes, blinking several times to get it to moisten and contorting his face into an unbearably heartbreaking expression. Faking a hiccup, he immediately burst into a sob.
"Listen ma'am. You really have no idea what I'm going through right now. I just got across a major breakup with my semi-abusive ex whom I love very, very much but doesn't have the heart to love me back! Not only that but, uh, I'm… living with a Japanese yakuza...w-with nunchucks! - plus I just found out today that I had a long-lost brother, whose blind by the way, from Canada," he hiccuped and paused for effect.
"And I really, really, really need this job to pay for his butt surgery…which he got from…err…playing the ukulele in his radioactive chesterfield or whatever, every day. So please don't tell my boss about me. He already pays me so low that all I can afford to eat is a can of beans…"
A tear rolled down the 'poor' American's cheek as he stared down the lady with his big, watery eyes. To top that off, he made a whimpering sound and looked as self-conscious as possible. And believe it or not, it actually worked! Bills were being handed to him, left and right, from the people in line of the concession stand. Most were reassuring him with kind comments while others (that being the store's employees) suddenly erupted with their very own sob stories.
Alfred smirked. Suckers. And who says he couldn't act? Jolie will rue the day she dissed Alfred F. Jones off of his rightly acclaimed fame and fortune. However, Alfred's smug smile died away as his eyes traveled to a certain blonde walking towards the grocery aisle.
In a flash, he made a bee-line for the instant beverages section where the green-eyed Brit was heading.
Oh-my-god! It's Arthur! It's totally him! What the heck is he doing here? Could it be that he heard I was working in Wal-Mart and now he wants to sneak and peek at my effin' good looks? Oh…Alfred, you should've seen this coming, bro. The American shuffled behind a stack of Cheerios, peeping silently like a creepy stalker.
There he was; his dear Arthur smiling fondly at the tea rack searching for a specific brew. A big band aid was on his forehead (the injury being something he might have caused). The emerald-eyed Brit was humming softly and sorting through all the different tea brands. Alfred couldn't help but crack a smile himself.
In fact he wore such an unhealthy, lovesick grin, that some shoppers were shooting him odd looks only to find out that he was one of the employees. A little boy wearing his cute little hat and Pokémon shirt came up to him asking where the peanut butter was.
Alfred replied irritably, "Beat it, kid. I'm kinda busy right now if it isn't already obvious…"
Arthur turned to look at where the sound was coming from. A puzzled expression sported his face before scavenging for his tea again. Strange. There was nobody there… He supposed he was hearing things again. A trip to a psychiatrist suddenly sounded good right about now, but first and fore-mostly, he needed his tea.
Alfred let out a sigh of relief as he squatted behind a much larger rack of tea merely a foot away from Arthur. He had the sudden urge to just hug the man right there when he heard Arthur impatiently mumbling.
"These are all simply atrocious American brands. I can't find my tea, anywhere….Oh! There's one. How much? Pfft…bloody tories. Well, I don't suppose they have them here in America, but still…"
He must be looking for his favorite tea or something. Alfred looked around and found the brand right in front of where he was hiding. Not knowing what else to do, he threw the box at Arthur's head and ran back to the checkout counters.
"Blast it all! That's the second time this week!" exclaimed the Brit. Finally taking notice of the box of tea he added, "Ooh, what a bargain!"
Author's Notes:
Yeah, now that I look back at all the chapters, it feels like I'm writing like an excited SoCal girl. Which is fine by me, except it makes me feel kinda silly for my ridiculously childish sense of humor. If it's even called that. Pfft, I don't care anymore. I'm going to keep writing this 'til I hit my goal. Thank you guys for reviewing the previous episode.