"D! Get your ass back inside!"
With a quick glance at my watches, I discover that the mental middle finger that I just gave to my yelling boss is in fact justified. I still 4 and half minutes left till my little breaky is over, and that soul sucking demon of a boss isn't taking any of it away.
Why do I even work here?!
Oh wait, that's right, I went to school in butt f#ck nowhere, had to get a job after my happy place went up in flames, and apparently butt f#ck nowhere doesn't exactly have a lot of options.
All of these wonderfully unfortunate facts, led me to my part time job at Saul's Diner, and in the nastiest most disrespectful way I can say this...the place is a f#cking shit hole.
It's an old rundown place that looks exactly like every old fashion diner you've ever seen in a movie. Rectangular building, booths with old jukeboxes, a counter with those spinny stools that the main character always gets a milkshake at. You just pictured something and it was probably pleasant. Now take that imaginary quaint diner, make it covered in decades worth of grease, foot traffic, and wear and tear and there you have it, Saul's Diner. The place is practically one health code violation away from getting shut down. The only reason that violation hasn't been found is probably because I think the last time a health inspector was in Luceville my middle aged mother was still in diapers. I seriously question the sanity of the entire town some days while working here because for some wack ass reason the place is a hit with the locals. Maybe they're fans of food poisoning.
"Dev! I swear to the high heaven, get in here!"
Um, how about nope? I still have 2 minutes and 43 seconds. Also he hasn't real named me yet, so screaming boss man can't be that mad. I like to catagorize the level of how much I've pissed someone off through a ranking system that involves which version of my name they call me.
Safe Names include: D, Sov, the Big D, and whatever other mildly sexual nickname my friends and teammates come up with. Most people call me Sov because hey I play a sport we do the whole last name nicknames if your cool enough thing. I know I'm starting to step on toes when I make it into the Dev realm because we're getting close to the real deal. I usually get hit with the Dev when people are kind of annoyed or want to say something serious to me but keep it at like a soft type of 'I care about you' personal emotional level. Like that time I was dicking around before my parents told me my brother got killed in a car crash. That was a Dev moment. A sucky Dev moment.
And just like every other kid in the world, if I get real named, I know I'm in some serious shit and someone is about to blow.
"Devin!" I flinch at the becursed might of the real name. "Get down here, now!" is snarled at me from below.
With a look down, I confirm that it is in fact the biggest pain in my ass: Saul, my boss, owner of previously mentioned shit hole diner. Now, if you know a thing or two about the Bible, you'd soon realize that Saul is in fact a very fitting name for my douchnozzle of a boss. He's a constantly red faced, balding middle aged guy with a comb over, beady black eyes, and somehow always looks and smells greasy.
My first encounter with the guy started with some sexist comments, worked it way up to some overly adventurous hands, and ended with a judo flip over my shoulder that threw out his back. To say the least, I don't like the guy, but there aren't any other jobs in town and your girl gotta eat. I still wonder why he hired me after the whole judo flip thing though. Maybe he's a masochist or something.... especially since he hasn't fired me, and I'm a bit of an ass at work.
Anyway, even with the damage of being real named, I am still very aware of the fact that I have 37 seconds left of break. With this all empowering knowledge to backup my actions, I do what anyone would do when their boss is cutting their break short and flip him the bird.
Wow, I didn't know someone could get that red. Dude is practically glowing, and my little gesture made him light up like a Christmas tree.
"Don't make me cut you pay." Saul spits with venom like that would make me scared.
I roll my eyes at his empty threat.
"Oh please, you already pay me minimum wage, and last I checked I'm the one serving the Sheriff his Sunday milkshake every week so unless you want me to casually drop you breaking the law in conversation you're spit outta luck."
Dang, I was wrong apparently the dude can get redder. Is that what Rudolph's nose looked like?
With a beep, the timer on my watch signals that my break has officially ended. However, being my antagonizing self, I take my time ceremoniously getting to my feet before hopping down from the roof. It's a short fall, maybe 12 feet. I hit the ground and do a roll to absorb the shock, can't be getting hurt since I'm still a college athlete and all. I stand to my full 5'6'' height, dust myself off, and head inside.
I may or may not give Saul a mocking military salute as I pass him. All I have to stay is that if I did, it definitely was just with my middle finger and no way following proper military regulations.
Seriously, why hasn't this guy fired me?