Something Less Intresting

After eating a hearty meal of while rice and ranch style beans, I sat down to watch a two hour disc of Dragon Ball Z season three. I made it though three whole heart-pounding episodes before hearing my phone ring. I answered it with utmost composure and gave a deep-felt “hello” to the person who lay on the other side of the conversation. It was Miss Stout from work, apparently the redneck girl who likes to smoke and being annoying all round wasn’t able to work her three to close box office shift. Being the friendless dud I was, I accepted to go into work for the next nine hours, and sprang into action. And by sprang I meant that I sat around and watched another episode, as my work clothes were in the dryer and not fit for wearing. After finishing the episode I ran down to the laundry room and said “to hell with it!” and grabbed my semi-moist clothes, and went to work.
Not many battles occurred during the first hour of work, stupid people came and went, without bothering me for more than a few moments. Alas, it was not meant to last. Around four o’clock a rather flamboyant young man with a cigarette sauntered up to my kiosk and ordered two tickets too see Inception. I took his money and provided him with his tickets and went about my business. Then the human male in his company came and had this conversation with me:
Him: “We’re together.”
Me: “Yes, I gave you two tickets.”
Him: “Like, he is my boyfriend.”
Me: “Alright, I figured”
Then him and his confidant went away, leaving me and Miss Bow more puzzled than anything else. Why did he feel the need to divulge this information to me? Did he believe that it would offer him a discount? Or perhaps I gave a look that made him think he was watching a movie with his brother? Either way it didn’t explain why he told me, or why he felt the need to wear the same grey plaid shirt that I own, only three sizes to small.
About half an hour after the Gay-boy brigade went away, the window outside my box was devoid of any customers, providing my favorite working conditions. With Miss Bow to talk to, I was able to enjoy working inside of my red colored cage. Then a little surprise came trotting across the bottom of my eye-line, a rather beige avian was walking about on the sidewalk. I turned to Bow and told her there was a Roadrunner outside. I believe I’ve ever seen her jump up and move around faster, or will since. The bird had skittered out of sight, but then made a 180 and scurried back across our box office, then few away. As she saw it Bow shrieked with joy, and flailed her arms about like a child who just opened their first Christmas present that wasn’t a pack of tube socks.