my mouth dropping open, B&J's dripping onto my linoleum floor. When I got to the bottom, the listed price for my apartment turned condo, I felt tears well in my eyes. There was no chance in Hades. Especially now being unemployed. I looked up at my Betty Boop calendar. The first was three weeks away. Great. Fired, robbed, and Mr. Chen was evicting me.
I was so pissed off at Fate I could spit.
Instead, I crumpled up the letter, grabbed my pint of B&J's and went to bed, consoling myself that at least the day was over. At least life couldn’t get any worse.
Famous last words.
* * *
"Well this just sucks big fat donkey balls," Quinn said, rereading the condo notice as she sipped her margarita.
"You know you could always come stay with me," Lynette offered. But considering she was currently wearing both cupcake colored drool and baby spit up on her blouse, I decided that was Plan B.
Or C.
"Thanks," I mumbled. Then did another tequila shot. I'd been holed up in bed for the past three days, existing on cheese doodle crumbs and ice cream until Quinn and Lynnette had staged an intervention. They arrived with chips and salsa (Lynette's contributions) and margarita mix and a video entitled 'Huge Hung Hunks' (Quinn's contributions). Somewhere between the hunks and the chips I'd abandoned the margarita mix and switched to straight tequila.
"It's not fair," I said, slugging back another shot. "I've worked hard. I've paid my dues at the bottom. And every time it seems like I might claw my way just a teeny bit closer to the top, Fate knocks me down again. I'm homeless and unemployed. Even my dad has a job making license plates!"
"I'm sorry honey," Lynette said, patting my arm.
But I wasn't going to be that easily consoled. One of the benefits of tequila. "And you know what? I think the repo man found my car last night. Bastard."
"Leeman's blaming you for the robbery, you know," Quinn said.
"No!" I poured another shot. "He isn't?"
Lynnie nodded. "I heard him in the break room telling the cops that they should look into the disgruntled employee theory."
"Snake." I threw another shot back.
"I heard that he's sleeping with the DM, " Quinn said, rewinding a particularly interesting section of her video. We all paused, turning our heads to the side to get a better view of just how hung the hunk was.
"Figures," I mumbled. "No wonder she didn't believe me."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, at least you won't have to endure the octopus any longer. I'm sure you can get another job at a different bank."
"Not if the cops really do start investigating you," Quinn added oh-so-helpfully.
"Shit." I did another shot. Was that number four or five? Or fifteen? I'd totally lost count. "You know what's the least fair thing in all this? He's free as a bird, off to the Bahamas and I'm stuck here unemployed and soon to be homeless!"
"Who's going to the Bahamas?" Lynette asked, popping another chip in her mouth.
"The guy who robbed me. Mr. Blue Eyes. Twenty five thousand, three hundred and twenty-two. That's' the price of his freedom. I know," I said, waving my empty shot glass in the air. "The cops made me count."
Quinn made a low whistling sound. "Wow. I could pay off my student loans with that."
"You know how many diapers I could buy with that?" Lynnie chimed in.
"Well, hell, maybe we should start robbing banks," I said, giving up on the shot glass and swigging straight from the bottle.
Quinn laughed. "Yeah, and we'd start with L.A. Mu. Could you just imagine Leeman's face if you showed up waving a gun?"
Lynette snorted. "He'd pee his pants, the little weasel."
"God, that alone would be almost worth it," I mumbled.
"But wouldn’t that be weird? I mean, the same bank getting robbed twice in a row?" Quinn asked.
"But that’s the genius of it," I argued. "No one expects it to get hit twice in a row. They're not ready for it."
"We'll need disguises," Lynnie decided.
"Yeah, that robber's disguise sucked. Blue eyes. Pft!" I
I was so pissed off at Fate I could spit.
Instead, I crumpled up the letter, grabbed my pint of B&J's and went to bed, consoling myself that at least the day was over. At least life couldn’t get any worse.
Famous last words.
* * *
"Well this just sucks big fat donkey balls," Quinn said, rereading the condo notice as she sipped her margarita.
"You know you could always come stay with me," Lynette offered. But considering she was currently wearing both cupcake colored drool and baby spit up on her blouse, I decided that was Plan B.
Or C.
"Thanks," I mumbled. Then did another tequila shot. I'd been holed up in bed for the past three days, existing on cheese doodle crumbs and ice cream until Quinn and Lynnette had staged an intervention. They arrived with chips and salsa (Lynette's contributions) and margarita mix and a video entitled 'Huge Hung Hunks' (Quinn's contributions). Somewhere between the hunks and the chips I'd abandoned the margarita mix and switched to straight tequila.
"It's not fair," I said, slugging back another shot. "I've worked hard. I've paid my dues at the bottom. And every time it seems like I might claw my way just a teeny bit closer to the top, Fate knocks me down again. I'm homeless and unemployed. Even my dad has a job making license plates!"
"I'm sorry honey," Lynette said, patting my arm.
But I wasn't going to be that easily consoled. One of the benefits of tequila. "And you know what? I think the repo man found my car last night. Bastard."
"Leeman's blaming you for the robbery, you know," Quinn said.
"No!" I poured another shot. "He isn't?"
Lynnie nodded. "I heard him in the break room telling the cops that they should look into the disgruntled employee theory."
"Snake." I threw another shot back.
"I heard that he's sleeping with the DM, " Quinn said, rewinding a particularly interesting section of her video. We all paused, turning our heads to the side to get a better view of just how hung the hunk was.
"Figures," I mumbled. "No wonder she didn't believe me."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, at least you won't have to endure the octopus any longer. I'm sure you can get another job at a different bank."
"Not if the cops really do start investigating you," Quinn added oh-so-helpfully.
"Shit." I did another shot. Was that number four or five? Or fifteen? I'd totally lost count. "You know what's the least fair thing in all this? He's free as a bird, off to the Bahamas and I'm stuck here unemployed and soon to be homeless!"
"Who's going to the Bahamas?" Lynette asked, popping another chip in her mouth.
"The guy who robbed me. Mr. Blue Eyes. Twenty five thousand, three hundred and twenty-two. That's' the price of his freedom. I know," I said, waving my empty shot glass in the air. "The cops made me count."
Quinn made a low whistling sound. "Wow. I could pay off my student loans with that."
"You know how many diapers I could buy with that?" Lynnie chimed in.
"Well, hell, maybe we should start robbing banks," I said, giving up on the shot glass and swigging straight from the bottle.
Quinn laughed. "Yeah, and we'd start with L.A. Mu. Could you just imagine Leeman's face if you showed up waving a gun?"
Lynette snorted. "He'd pee his pants, the little weasel."
"God, that alone would be almost worth it," I mumbled.
"But wouldn’t that be weird? I mean, the same bank getting robbed twice in a row?" Quinn asked.
"But that’s the genius of it," I argued. "No one expects it to get hit twice in a row. They're not ready for it."
"We'll need disguises," Lynnie decided.
"Yeah, that robber's disguise sucked. Blue eyes. Pft!" I
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