mental | The Writer's Corner

*****EXPLICIT CONTENT WARNING*****

When the alarm sounds, I am already awake. At exactly 5:02 AM each morning, my eyes peel open. I reach for my phone to turn off the alarm and toss it on the bed as I get up. My morning ritual is always consistent: Make bed, brew coffee, shower, brush teeth, get dressed, drink coffee. If one piece of my ritual is out of order or missed, it’s a bad day.

Depending on the day of the week, I do have some variety. Mondays I go to Big Bob’s Bagel and treat the office. Tuesdays and Thursdays I go to the gym before work. It doesn’t show. Wednesdays I get a little adventurous and have a second cup of coffee at the local diner with two eggs, sunny-side up, two slices of bacon and Janet. Let’s face it, I go to see Janet. I make no effort to hide my attraction to her. My eyes lure her in like magnets and she offers me a second cup of coffee. “Sure,” I say. I accept the java with no intention on drinking it.

Janet is petite, blonde and always looks like the cover of a magazine. Her bright red lipstick lights up her smile and mascara highlights her hazel eyes. When she comes to write me the bill, she sits next to me in the booth, pushing me closer to the window. The room becomes hot and I loosen my tie and watch her quizzically. She’s writing down a phone number and a smiley face.

She slides the bill towards me and casually slides her hand over my leg. I take out a ten and slap it on the table. “You’re always so tense, so stiff… It makes me wonder if you’d loosen up a little bit when I’m off the clock. Or maybe on,” She giggles. Her hand moves closer up my thigh and I jump up, spilling the hot coffee all over my white shirt and new grey slacks. “SHIT,” I yell across the diner.

That didn’t happen. Janet was across the room serving another guest when I had spilt the coffee. It happened again. She came rushing over with napkins to help cover up my embarrassment. “Oh, you poor thing,” She bit her lip and tried rubbing the stain from my shirt. I was insanely embarrassed. I snatched the napkins to cover up my lower half and thanked her before rushing to the restroom.

I call it the mirror. There are a series of alternate realities that happen in our timeline in a different space. Sometimes I get stuck in another space. I call it the mirror because it’s hard to tell which side I’m on. I take my trousers off in the restroom and try to dry them underneath the hand dryer. Not only am I embarrassed here, but I made a fool of myself in the mirror as well.

My erection is very apparent and I slink into myself when I wonder if Janet had saw. I close my eyes and hope that this is just another mirror. I pray quietly for a do-over and soon find myself day-dreaming of the mirror before the incident. Janet slides her hand over my leg. She takes my hand and places it on her breast as she straddles me in the booth.

Then I finish. I open my eyes and realize that I had been masturbating underneath the hand dryer. After taking a sigh of relief, I grab a napkin to clean my hands. I turn around and see a heavyset man staring at me in horror. It takes a moment to register that he is a real person. I quickly put my pants back on, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt, trying not to make eye contact. I scurry and brush past him, trying to leave. “Fucking freak,” He flashes a disgusted look as I burst out the bathroom.

Janet smiles at me and I fake one back. She gives me a sympathetic half-smile, and hands me the bill. “Sorry,” She mouths. There’s no number. No smiley face. “It’s fine. Happens all the time. No big deal,” I say sarcastically. I hand her back the bill and a ten. “Well I hope that doesn’t scare you off. My Wednesdays wouldn’t be the same,” She tries to hand me change and I don’t accept. “Keep it,” I smile for real this time. “Thanks Janet,” I bite my lower lip and wave as I slowly exit the diner.

“Morning, Dan!” Someone is waving me on from a new Impala. It’s my boss. Great. He is the last person I want to see right now. I nod and wave awkwardly. “Come ‘ere and check out my new ride. Brand new leather interior, custom stereo system, but not too much. You know. I don’t want to be flashy. I just want something reliable,” He explains as I hesitantly walk towards him.

He walks around his new car like it’s his prey and he’s about to attack. He compulsively touches his face and admires what money can buy. It’s gross. “Looks great, Drew” I lie. Drew arches a brow, “Great? You’re not impressed. Hop in and I’ll show you how fast she goes.” “Also, I know where you work,” Drew winks. Ew.

“It’s really nice, but I couldn’t. I have to stop by my house anyways and change. Had a little wardrobe malfunction,” I laugh nervously, flashing my coffee-stained shirt. “Plus, I prefer to walk. I need the exorcise. I’ll race ya, legs versus wheels,” I joke. Drew bursts out laughing and slaps me on the back. “Dan, you weirdo! You are too much. Man it’s good to have you around. See you at 9:30. Sharp!” He points his key at me and backs up to his car.

He floors the gas pedal and nearly gets t-boned at the intersection. I swear, that guy does coke. I check my watch. Shit. It’s 8:30. I decide to jog back to my apartment building. Three flights of stairs later, I’m at my apartment door.

A kid is at the door next to mine, drooling and staring. I jump and drop my keys. She’s not a small child, maybe 9 or 10. “Jesus. And I’m the freak,” I whisper to myself. I can feel her eyes still on me as I rush inside. I run around frantically to find clean clothes. Of course they’re all in the wash.

Finally, I find something. I’m staring at myself in the bathroom mirror trying to figure out what jacket will cover the hideous plaid I’m wearing. I am not a plaid guy. I lick my finger to straighten out my eyebrows and make sure my hair line is perfect. Then my reflection smiles at me, in a menacing sort of way.

“I do NOT have time for this right now!” I yell at my reflection. “I have to go to work, so don’t pull your shit” I warn. The reflection rolls his eyes out and mimics me, “Dun puhl yer shit.” In response, I punch the mirror and it shatters. Great, now I’m bleeding. This is not how Wednesdays are supposed to go.

My hand is a chop job. A poorly wrapped bandage makes it look like I just sprained my wrist; yeah, that’s the story. Part of me wishes I would have hopped into the douche mobile this morning. I check my watch and it’s already 9:07. I guess it’s time to test out the public transportation system.

The bus is crowded. I don’t even get all the way up the steps before the driver puts the bus in drive and takes off. There are no seats so I awkwardly try and share a pole with a fellow traveler. Today sucks.

“Uhm, excuse me! This is my stop. Can you, uhm, stop this thing?” I try to get the bus driver’s attention. “Hello, can you hear me? I said I need to stop. Go to work…” The man sharing my pole turns to look at me and arches a brow. “What?” I ask annoyed. He reaches over to pull a cord by the window, and a flashing light appears near the front of the bus, signaling to stop. The brakes screech to a halt and the driver opens the doors. “Thanks,” I whisper.

Normal people take the bus every day. I’m okay. I straighten out my jacket while the bus pulls off. Of course, I get soaked by a giant puddle as the bus speeds off.

I’m in the elevator, dripping wet. I push through the staring people as I stab the ninth floor button. At last, I reach the office. I wring out my jacket and plaid conspicuously in the office plant. Drew happens to be passing by like he’s on a mission, as usual. He stops and scrunches up his face in disgust, “Danny Boy, you smell like pond scum. And it’s 9:45, this is unlike you.” He makes no time to stop and wait for a response, he’s back to business as usual.

Before I can even sit down, Anya my supervisor stops me. Her arms are folded and her hips are slouched like she’s about to bitch, “Daniel. Where’s my financial statements? I asked you to turn this in promptly yesterday at 4:15. I was on a conference with the CFO, and had to pull some bullshit excuse out my ass and suck up. Not to mention we have that audit on Monday so we need to get our shit together. And by our shit, I mean get your shit together.”

I bite my tongue, “I’m sorry Anya, I haven’t been on my best game lately.” I brush papers around my desk when I find the completed reports. I stand up and hand them to her with a smile. She stares at the water dripping from my hair onto the reports and she rolls her eyes. “Just email them to me,” She grunts and struts off.

Little does Anya know, I did finish those reports yesterday. Yes, I was late, but I stayed until 6:30 last night compiling crap journals trying to figure out why our inventory was short but our cost of goods sold and everything else matched up. I stuck around to do my own investigating to see that Clara from sales was selling inventory for cash and listing items on her personal Ebay account after office management left for the day, well, all except Anya and Drew.

I went to Anya’s office yesterday to turn in those statements. In fact, I was just going to slide them underneath the door until it sounded like murder happening on the other side. Nope, it wasn’t cold blood; Anya and Drew were fucking. She sounds like a duck having it’s neck slit when she moans. I’ll never look at her the same again. And I wonder how Drew’s wife would feel about that?

I swear I’m not a bad person. I’m just an observer. Everyone’s nasty little secrets are thrust on my plate, whether they know it or not. People are so selfish, so self-absorbed. So what, I jerked off to my waitress. Don’t act like you don’t touch yourself. We’re all dirty. It’s part of our human nature. I’ve traveled space and time more occasions than I can count, and each world is the same. It just so happens that this one is more pretty on the surface.

I’m actually a people person. Everyone feels sorry for the awkward shy guy. It’s actually kind of strange. The guys are always trying to invite me out for drinks and get me laid, kind of like what’s going to happen in five… four… three…. two… “Dan my man!” My co-worker comes up and does a drum-roll on my desk. Two others follow and put their asses on my desk. Disgusting. They have no idea who I am.

“What’s up, boys!” I grin and put my hand out for an awkward fist bump. They look at each other and laugh. Ronny from shipping speaks out, “Me and the guys are hitting up the Rusty Nail tonight. You down?” I ponder as Ronny slams down an energy drink, crushes the can and tosses it in my trash like a touch down. He burps in my face. How did these guys pass the interview process?

“I don’t know boys, I have a pretty tight schedule. Maybe another time,” I reply, like I’m disappointed I can’t go. Jerry from inventory and Mark from QC make a scene. “Man, you never go out. What better things do you got to do, bro?” Jerry pops his head back in shock. “Yeah, man. Live a little.” Mark nods and chuckles. He’s clearly stoned.

What harm could it do? “Okay, fine. Ya sold me. I’ll cancel my plans tonight,” I throw my hands up. “Woot, Woot!” Ronny yells. “You can watch Desperate Housewives on DVR, man,” Mark punches my shoulder. Blending in is the best way to observe. Originally, I was going to go see Janet tonight. She doesn’t live too far from my apartment building, but I can do that any night.

The monkeys left me to my work. A woman in my department peaked over into my cubicle. “I don’t know why you associate with those jerks,” Debby sneers. I shrug, “Just trying to be friendly I guess. You know me, bucket of smiles.” Debby is an older woman. She has jowls that jiggle when she speaks. “They’re going to corrupt you one day. I know it,” She warns and plops back in her chair. “You have nothing to worry about, Debbs!” I shout over the cubicle.

At five, the trio crowds my desk again. “Ready to go?” Jerry asks. “In our work clothes? Shouldn’t we be a little more casual?” I question. Ronny laughs, “Man, don’t you know the ladies love it when a man is all dressed up? Showing off that he has a J-O-B. Chicks eat that shit up. You don’t want to look like some douche bag.” I almost bust

out laughing. “Nope, guess you’re right. Wouldn’t want to do that.”

Debby is shaking her head as she waddles towards the door. “Staying late again, Anya?” Debby calls out. “Don’t you worry about me, Debby-Cakes. I won’t stay too late. See ya’ll tomorrow,” Anya calls out. “Have fun,” I shout out sarcastically. She laughs, “Oh, I’ll try.” Don’t try too hard, Anya. You wouldn’t want to sound like you’re faking it.

The boys walk in the Rusty Nail like they own the place. There’s a man half asleep at the bar, and some hipster doing homework in a booth. “Foods on me, this time. But next time Danny Boy is buying,” Mark slaps his hands on the counter. They look like swine, the way the choke down these chicken wings and sliders. I eat a couple of mozzarella sticks and call it at that.

The bartender passes the boys and fixates on me. She leans over the bar, “How are you doing? Can I get you anything?” She’s giving me flirty eyes. She’s pretty, but not my type. She has long brown hair pulled back in a pony, cat-tail eyeliner and her breasts popping out of her black tank top. I debate asking her how much they cost her.

“I’ll have a tall, please. Whatever you have on tap that’s good. I don’t drink much,” I reply. She raises her brow, “Yeah, I don’t remember seeing you here before. Those guys are pretty… memorable to put it nicely.” She nods over to my co-workers. “Yeah,” I chuckle, “That’s one way of putting it.”

She wags her ass like she has a tail as she goes to fill my glass. She turns back as she lets the head out the glass, “So what’s going on that made you start drinking today?” She struts back and puts the glass on a coaster, batting her eyelashes. It’s sad that she has to make money this way. I feel bad for her, sexualizing herself to get a bigger tip – pretending she cares about these drunks’ lives.

I play into it. Anything was better conversation than the guy next to me sticking french fries up his nose. “It was just one of those days, you know? The morning started out awful, and it just kind of sets a chain reaction for the rest of the day,” I pause and take a sip. “I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. It’s better than boring I suppose.” She nods, “That’s an interesting perspective.”

“What about you?” I ask. “What made you come to work today to watch us start drinking?” She laughs, “You got those one-liners. I see you there. I guess I come to watch other people fuck up their lives worse than I do mine. It’s refreshing.” I nervously laugh, “That’s more honest than what I was expecting.” She’s interesting. Maybe I shouldn’t have pre-judged.

She shrugs, “I’m used to honesty. Drunks are the most honest people I know. Even if I wish they’d shut their damn mouths. Guess it’s contagious. Girl has to stand up for herself in this industry, too.”

“Hmph. Seems like you have a pretty good perspective as well,” I respond. Jerry claps his hand on the counter, “Bartender! I need a refill. Come gimme some sugar.” She rolls her eyes, “One shot of cyanide, coming up dear.” The boys laugh. “Oh baby, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Jerry whimpers. I look over and they are all drunk off their asses. Jerry’s fat face is red as a cherry.

Ronny is buying shots. I kick a few back. After a while, I’m able to switch my full shot-glass for Mark’s empties without him noticing. He just kind of gets excited and accepts it. Around 10:30, we’re still here. This place wasn’t too bad with a crowd. Maybe I am a little drunk. I usually hate this many people.

I’m on the dance floor, dancing by myself. The room is spinning, so I close my eyes. All of a sudden, everything is hilarious. Jerry looks like a basketball rolling around on the dance floor like he’s about to have a heart attack. Ronny is doing fist pumps, jumping up and down with a group of people. Mark is in a corner, nodding his head and most likely tripping acid.

“This is my man I was tellin’ you ‘bout! This is Danny Boy,” Ronny stumbles over to me. He has a blonde girl in his arm and he’s pushing her towards me. She’s intoxicated. “Danny, this is Sheryl. Have fun you two,” And he stumbles back to the crowd. I play along. Fuck it.

“Nice to meet you,” I yell over the music. “It’s soooo nice to meet you too,” She laughs like a horse. Oh god. “Can I get you a drink?” Jesus, fuck, why did I ask her that. “Sure, handsome!” She drags me to the bar counter and grid-locks my arm.

“Two vodka cranberries please, one for me and one for my man,”She slurs to the bartender. I smile and wave at my friend from earlier. She rolls her eyes and makes the drinks. She slams the drinks down on the counter, ”$12 please, unless you want to open a tab.”

“No way, those drinks are $4 each,” I squint at her. I’m seeing doubles. Am I in the mirror? “What do you care, you’re having a good time. It’s worth it for the lady. You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?” The bartender pouts and looks over to Sheryl.
“Listen- listen here…. you. What’s your name?” I ask. “Emily,” She grins. “I’m wearing a nametag dumbass,” She replies. I stare into her breasts like a crystal ball. “There it is!” I chuckle. I’m toasted. Damn.

Emily holds her hand out. She’s annoyed. “Fine. $20, but that’s all you get missy,” I hand her a twenty. She snatches it from me and carries on. “Ahem,” Sheryl grunts. “Yes?” I ask, confused.

Then she talks. And talks. And talks. “So when I went to get my nails done on Friday, Sandy was out and this girl that didn’t speak any English took me and I was like, fill ins only. And the bitch wiped my nails clean and charged me $75 for a new set! Isn’t that so ridiculous? Like, this is America. Get a clue, Xing Ling and learn some English. So after that Vicky showed up at my house out of nowhere with her ex boyfriend. He is such a tool. And the entire time they’re fighting, so I just kick them out and she’s blowing up my phone all night telling me what a douche he is. And I was like, yeah, I told you so?”

I hold my hand up, “Hold up, hold up, hold up. You warned this chick and she went back to him?” Sheryl frowns, “Uhm, yeah. That’s literally what I just said.” I put my hands down, “Ok, just making sure. I have another question though.” Her eyes get wide like she’s getting impatient and wants to continue her story. “Yeah?” She flips her hair.

“Do you ever shut up?” I ask. Her jaw dropped to the ground like a cartoon. Emily turns around wide-eyed as well, overfilling a glass of beer and spilling it everywhere. Sheryl grabs up her purse and slaps me. Damn that girl can hit. Sheryl storms out of the bar. I rub my cheek. Guess I’m not in the mirror.

The Writer's Corner

Tag Archives: mental

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