Note: This story is about as loosely based on the authors life as possible. Minor details are inspired by actual events, but immediately stray far from them. This will be a sometimes humorous, sometimes sad, sometimes ridiculous, but always badly written story with incoherent jumping between narration and storytelling. Enjoy!

Today is February 23rd, 2008. My name is Brendan Allen. I'm 22 years old. I hate my job; working in a café, inside of a bookstore. I hate both. It's like being trapped in a port-a-potty that's in the middle of a landfill. All I do is stand here when there are no customers, read a comic, you know, stuff that doesn't warrant even the crappiest of paychecks.

"I don't want to tell Ashley you're not doing any work, so do something! We both get paid to work but all I see you do is stand over there in the café, staring off into space. Atleast act like you're working or something." Maribel stood with her fists at both hips, glaring at Brendan, though she had a slight smirk on her face.

Maribel looks like a grandma talking to a four year old kid when she does that stupid 'hands on her hips' thing when she downtalks somebody.

Brendan stretched and looked at Maribel, who was standing near the café portion of the store. "Alright, i'll pretend to work." He walked over and grabbed a wet rag and ran it down the back counter for all of four seconds, then went back to leaning against it. Maribel rolled her eyes and turned away, but Brendan was able to add something in before she walked away. "I'm almost off the clock, leave me be! Besides, if you tell on me, then i'll tell you've been getting free drinks from here." She stopped for a moment but continued to walk away. Sheesh, she can be bitchy sometimes. ... but damn, she's cute... which makes her tolerable.

I need to get out of here. What time is it? Oh, God. 3:54! Almost out of here. That's another thing I hate about this job, you're never supposed to work in here alone, yet I get stuck doing it all the time. Work goes so slow when you're by yourself... but I'm not in any position to complain about anything right now. I'm late all the time and I do jack shit while on the clock.

"What's up negro?" A tall, poofy haired Asian in glasses, about 20 years old had walked into the door, about to start a shift in the bookstore, and greeted Brendan thusly. This is Chode. Actually, his name's Cho, but we call him Chode. and by 'we', I mean 'I'. It'd have been even funnier if he was short and fat. If you want to get technical, his real name is Henry Cho. I'm sure he has a middle name but I never cared enough to find out. This guy has been my friend for about two years, and got me this sad-sack job. Thanks, asshole. Oh yeah, and we call eachother negro in public sometimes. People don't know how to handle a white guy and an Asian guy addressing each-other as such. You should try it sometime!

"About to get out of this hellhole. You want to hang out? Oh, aww... that's right, you gotta work from now until midnight, shucks." Cho flipped Brendan off and went to the back room to clock in for his shift, and Brendan began to stare at the clock, now wondering where his relief people were. Travis was one, a charismatic guy that got along with almost everyone, though Brendan had the feeling Travis didn't like him. The other person was Annabelle, 'Annie', a somewhat awkward girl who suddenly makes Brendan uncomfortable due to recent events.

He sighed and hoped Travis would show up first so he could leave before Annie showed up, but Travis was atleast 3 minutes late every single day. One minute later, Annie walked through the door. ... of course. Let me catch you up to speed here. I live in a place called Pinewood Valley, which is about a half hour drive from where I work, which is in Warrenton. Annie randomly asked me to go with her and her friend to get Japanese food after work one day, so I said sure. She used to be one of my favorite people to work with, we got along great and had lots in common.

I heard she was thinking about leaving, so me and her friend decided to use this dinner as a great opportunity to peer pressure her into not quitting. We did, she agreed to stay, and then offered me a ride home, which I took. Then the next time we worked, she offered me a ride home again. I felt bad since she lived in the exact opposite direction, but she insisted. A little weird, I think. Plus she acts weird around me now, I'm not one to toot my own horn but I have the damndest feeling she likes me. If so, that's just too bad, because she's not my type. Huh, I guess beggars can be choosers?

"Annniiieee. My beacon of hope. My beacon of freedom. My beacon of, uh, leaving!" She smiled and just gave a quiet wave, then went to the back to get ready for work. Somebody walked up to the register, and Brendan looked at the clock; 4:01. He hesitated, and thought about what he should do, then gave into laziness. "Somebody will be right with you!" He darted to the café kitchen to go pretend he was doing something important instead of helping the last minute customer. After about fifty seconds, he came out to see Annie helping the person. Sweet. Two birds in one stone! "Hi Annie, bye Annie! I wish I could visit but I gotta be somewhere fast!" He ran to the back and immediately clocked out. He picked up his jacket, grabbed his MP3 player, and left the building as fast as possible.

God dammit, about time. I seriously don't see myself working here for two more months without stabbing somebody, setting the building on fire or just plain blowing it up. Which scares me, because it's probably the easiest job I could have, save for a sofa tester. Sofa tester... I gotta look that up when I get home.

I ride the train from home to work and vice versa every day, unless I get a ride of course. I don't drive. I live right next to the station, everything in Pinewood Valley is within walking distance. It's a small town. Not rural, but not big enough to be considered 'non-forgettable'. The train is an increasingly uncomfortable ride for me. I used to read on it, but I finished the only book i've had any will to read in about 4 years. I do sudoku puzzles, but I suck at them, get frustrated and quit. So now, all i'm left with is spacing out and listening to music, staring at the bland, brown hills filled with dead grass and the same bushy looking green trees here and there. It freaks me out to be in the car alone, I don't know why, but it does. Though sometimes ...

What the hell, is that lady staring at me? A skinny, stringy haired woman in her late 50s was infact staring directly at Brendan, eyes a little bugged out, from across the train. ... this is another reason i'm beginning to not like the train. The freaks. This lady is looking at me like i'm dressed like Austin Powers or something. "Pinewood Valley, Pinewood Valley Station coming up." Thank Christ. He stood up and walked toward the opposite exit, checking one last time to see if the woman was still staring at him. She was.

Brendan entered his apartment to see a slew of stuffed animals all over the living room, aswell as a white pile of fluff that was presumably once a napkin. Mia. I got a kitten recently, and she's a sociopath. I wasn't aware animals were capable of being such, but she's definitely proven it. I close my door, she wants in. I let her in, she wants back out within ten seconds. You're probably wondering why I don't just leave the door open? Well, screw you, I like it closed!

"Mia, you retard!" he yelled in no particular direction. The cat came zipping down the hall at the sound of her name, though Brendan wondered if she was responding to 'retard.' He picked her up and began petting her, and speaking to her in a loving, calm tone. "Oooh, who's a stupid kitty? Yes you, you're a stupid kitty! You're going to get yourself killed one of these days aren't you? Yes yes yes you are, my stupid little Mia!" With a kiss to the cats forehead, he dropped her and headed to his room.

My room is my sanctuary. A very dirty, garbage filled sanctuary. I'm sure I could buy a Playstation 3 and atleast two games if I recycled all of these bottles and cans. I'll get around to it. ... someday. My room is my safe place for sure, though. I'm in my own world. I never liked anybody in here. Not my friends, not even my then girlfriend. I don't know why, I guess it's just nice to have someplace that's yours and only yours. In here is my T.V. and various barely functioning game systems, my barely functioning PC, and my sloppily drawn comic i'm writing. It's about a guy with a golden robotic arm and lots of guns. ... shut up, it's going to make me rich someday.

I wish I could say I did something exciting when I got home, like go to the grocery store and ask that cute bagger chick out, or atleast her name, or go to my friends and go on an adventure exploring the forest... but no, I mistakenly fired up a computer came and sank 5 hours into it. Just in time for me to realize I had to go to sleep so I could go back to work the next morning. This is my life. It's horrible, and something has to change.