Chapter 2 - Interminable
Submitted January 4, 2011 Updated January 8, 2011 Status Incomplete | Owl City: Ocean Eyes About a lonely boy, a wild ambition, and the best listener in the world who cannot even hear. A story inspired by Owl City: Ocean Eyes by Adam Young. Story by me, JustL.
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Chapter 2 - Interminable
Chapter 2 - Interminable
Sprinting past aisles, I tried not to lose sight of the girl. I pondered her thoughts on my singing voice. My top row of teeth clenched my bottom lip nervously as I threw myself in her shoes.
What a weirdo, was the first thing that came to my mind.
"Adam! There you are!" my boss snapped, grabbing my shoulder and practically throwing me behind the short counter. He certainly wasn't the nicest of all men, and if I had a choice, I wouldn't give him the honour of calling him a gentleman; he was anything but. Even though his prickly mustache covered his mouth, I could still tell he was scowling.
He took a moment to meticulously study my expression, waiting for me to wince and back up. I didn't let him win. His brown eyebrows furrowed.
"Sorry for the inconvenience, sir," he spoke nonchalantly to the first customer in line. "I swear, this one," he continued, wrapping his plump hands around the joint in my left arm. "If his nose wasn't attached to his face, it'd be gone, I tell you."
The man smiled weakly, afraid of the consequences if he refused to do so. He then turned to me, green eyes sending a telepathic message saying, "It's no big deal."
Oxygen filled my lungs as I saw my boss walk around me. My eyes elevated until they hit the ceiling right as the door slammed. It seemed as though even the tiny room had suffered a chill climbing up its spine unexpectedly. My fingers weaved through their mirrored digits and clasped together comfortably. I let go of the air I had been holding and sighed, not afraid to show a bit of angst and anxiety, if not a ton.
As I opened my eyes, I saw my boss creep back around my left side and slump into his desk chair behind a cluttered computer area. He clicked around on the screen, searching through his employee's files.
I watched him, unamused.
He made a face.
I made one back.
He grimaced and scrolled back to his desktop. "Young comma Adam," he spoke after clearing his throat.
I raised a finger in case he forgot my name.
"Put your hand down, son!" he snarled, teeth ready to chomp. "You've been tardy twenty-one times this month out of twenty-seven total shifts."
I sat up to make my argument, but he restricted me.
"And don't go on and on about how you're busy doing your music crap. I don't want to hear it. I've had it up to here with you, Young," he exploded, raising a fist above his shoulders.
"It's not my music--!"
"Oh, then what is it, hm? It's the only thing you do in this place besides cut yourself with a box opener. Is it so hard to stay on task?"
"No, it isn't! If you'll just give me a chance to explain! It's very simple--!"
"I'll bet it is," he grinned out of character. "What, Young? Gotta go buy some new strings for your guitar? Some drums? A mic? Well, guess what? You won't get anything if you don't work for it!"
"I AM WORKING FOR IT!" I screamed, finding myself on my feet and my palms pointing so hard at my chest, they shook. My heartbeat was so intense, I could almost feel my eyeballs throbbing. "AND IF YOU MUST KNOW, THE MONEY I'VE BEEN WORKING FOR ISN'T FOR ME!"
"THEN WHAT IS IT FOR, YOUNG? IT SEEMS AS THOUGH THE ONLY THING SHACKLING YOU FROM DOING WHAT I ASK IS PURE LAZINESS--!"
"IT'S EVERYTHING BUT!" I yelled, tightening my red-hot claws to the edge of his desk. I looked him straight in the eye. He glared back, not absorbing a single thing I had said. He was the worst sponge I've ever met.
"Then what is it?" my boss puffed. "What are you doing with all of this money? Why do you even bother to get up every day and come here?"
I breathed and breathed, forcing my heart rate to slow. "I've been asking myself that same question for two years, sir," I replied proudly. I shook my damp hair, face contracting into a large frown. My brows pulled together. My nails dug into the pin holding my name tag and slammed it on his desk.
"I quit," I shot through a half-closed mouth. I pivoted and began walking towards the exit. Upon leaving, I turned back to the porcupine mustache man. "And by the way, I didn't make money for myself. Ever since the beginning of December, my mother has been terrible ill. I've been rushing back and forth from here and the hospital on my bike." I gave him a moment to take in every word I was saying. I could tell he regretted going off on me, and so I continued. "She has cancer... and it's interminable."
What a weirdo, was the first thing that came to my mind.
"Adam! There you are!" my boss snapped, grabbing my shoulder and practically throwing me behind the short counter. He certainly wasn't the nicest of all men, and if I had a choice, I wouldn't give him the honour of calling him a gentleman; he was anything but. Even though his prickly mustache covered his mouth, I could still tell he was scowling.
He took a moment to meticulously study my expression, waiting for me to wince and back up. I didn't let him win. His brown eyebrows furrowed.
"Sorry for the inconvenience, sir," he spoke nonchalantly to the first customer in line. "I swear, this one," he continued, wrapping his plump hands around the joint in my left arm. "If his nose wasn't attached to his face, it'd be gone, I tell you."
The man smiled weakly, afraid of the consequences if he refused to do so. He then turned to me, green eyes sending a telepathic message saying, "It's no big deal."
~.:: [O,O] ::.~
Oxygen filled my lungs as I saw my boss walk around me. My eyes elevated until they hit the ceiling right as the door slammed. It seemed as though even the tiny room had suffered a chill climbing up its spine unexpectedly. My fingers weaved through their mirrored digits and clasped together comfortably. I let go of the air I had been holding and sighed, not afraid to show a bit of angst and anxiety, if not a ton.
As I opened my eyes, I saw my boss creep back around my left side and slump into his desk chair behind a cluttered computer area. He clicked around on the screen, searching through his employee's files.
I watched him, unamused.
He made a face.
I made one back.
He grimaced and scrolled back to his desktop. "Young comma Adam," he spoke after clearing his throat.
I raised a finger in case he forgot my name.
"Put your hand down, son!" he snarled, teeth ready to chomp. "You've been tardy twenty-one times this month out of twenty-seven total shifts."
I sat up to make my argument, but he restricted me.
"And don't go on and on about how you're busy doing your music crap. I don't want to hear it. I've had it up to here with you, Young," he exploded, raising a fist above his shoulders.
"It's not my music--!"
"Oh, then what is it, hm? It's the only thing you do in this place besides cut yourself with a box opener. Is it so hard to stay on task?"
"No, it isn't! If you'll just give me a chance to explain! It's very simple--!"
"I'll bet it is," he grinned out of character. "What, Young? Gotta go buy some new strings for your guitar? Some drums? A mic? Well, guess what? You won't get anything if you don't work for it!"
"I AM WORKING FOR IT!" I screamed, finding myself on my feet and my palms pointing so hard at my chest, they shook. My heartbeat was so intense, I could almost feel my eyeballs throbbing. "AND IF YOU MUST KNOW, THE MONEY I'VE BEEN WORKING FOR ISN'T FOR ME!"
"THEN WHAT IS IT FOR, YOUNG? IT SEEMS AS THOUGH THE ONLY THING SHACKLING YOU FROM DOING WHAT I ASK IS PURE LAZINESS--!"
"IT'S EVERYTHING BUT!" I yelled, tightening my red-hot claws to the edge of his desk. I looked him straight in the eye. He glared back, not absorbing a single thing I had said. He was the worst sponge I've ever met.
"Then what is it?" my boss puffed. "What are you doing with all of this money? Why do you even bother to get up every day and come here?"
I breathed and breathed, forcing my heart rate to slow. "I've been asking myself that same question for two years, sir," I replied proudly. I shook my damp hair, face contracting into a large frown. My brows pulled together. My nails dug into the pin holding my name tag and slammed it on his desk.
"I quit," I shot through a half-closed mouth. I pivoted and began walking towards the exit. Upon leaving, I turned back to the porcupine mustache man. "And by the way, I didn't make money for myself. Ever since the beginning of December, my mother has been terrible ill. I've been rushing back and forth from here and the hospital on my bike." I gave him a moment to take in every word I was saying. I could tell he regretted going off on me, and so I continued. "She has cancer... and it's interminable."
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