The Sass Account

Charlie’s POV

Dragging the last of the garbage out to the chute, I thought this was the perfect time to blow off some steam. More like carbon monoxide type of steam. I was closing tonight so those asshats wouldn’t care to give me the third degree.

I was supposed to be inside and not lighting up but you gotta do what you want sometimes. I took out a bent cig from my pocket and lit it, breathing the only air I missed. Not lying here. Smoking is terrible for prolonging your health and makes you stink like a landfill but life is short anyway. Making a lot of mistakes gets you there faster. A realist would agree, nothing is guaranteed anymore.

Wal-Mart is one of those places this country likes to bury themselves in. Whatever that means. Suppose it’s all something I’m not meant to understand but just nod and shut my mouth to. Why me? I leaned against the cold, white brick wall closing my eyes. The slight perspiration on my cheeks cooling me in the open breeze. Now this was refreshing. I pulled my hair from the tie down letting it all hang out. I was hit with an epiphany. I spend way too much time thinking about Louis, especially at work. Why did I care so much what a retarded pop star was doing at this moment? Or rather who he was doing now that his dick isn’t in a mason jar under the sink. Louis Tomlinson has better things to do than worry about the little people. He sure stepped on a lot of them on his golden path to suckcess. Yes that’s a word. I invented it like Louis invented a persona.

Mr. jokster. Mr. pardon me, I’m Sassy Spice and totally not in love with the green “orbed,” (horrible fan fiction term directioners love to use in their kooky fantasies about the guys) mutant with oven mitts for hands known as Harry mother fucking Styles. Poor kid, he probably has herpes if not the clap already from all the prime trim swarming around him, such a shame at his age. Slow down trigger. By that I mean put your cock firmly in its cage and lock it up until the next cougar devours it. Caroline Flack must be exhausted.

Louis doesn’t need to worry about that, he’s the sweet, friendly boyfriend type that’ll make you piss your panties from laughing too hard. Isn’t that what the obsessed Tumblr girls say? Except, oh no, bollocks, Miley Cyrus’ Jewish twin crushed his heart into a million pieces. Oh if I could have been a fly on the wall of that traumatizing scene. It was probably more riveting than anything The Young and the Restless came up with. If only fans knew the truth. How much he really despises all those little lemmings following his twitta, addicted to someone who would never look their way in reality. All he cares about is being on top of the world and as many girls he can fork in. Now with Eleanor out of the picture, I’m sure the fans are pushing over cars for the first rebound fuck. No dignity I’m afraid. His fans know no shame.

My thoughts on Eleanor? Those Larry shippers like to call her a beard, probably because she has one. But really, she’s an old fashioned fame hag. Of course “hag” being the most appropriate word in the history of words when it comes to describing her to a tee. I’ll never get the pleasure to tell her that to her face now that she broke his wittle heart. Good. Pop stars tend to think of themselves as the zenith of life. We must all bow or else? I’d really like to know the answer to that question.

I checked my phone. Fucking 11pm. I hated closing but for some reason it was a lot more peaceful for me. Maybe in a distant land where I am completely alone with a lifetime supply of cigarettes, water and tuna cans will I find personal paradise. I can only dream for things to fair in that direction.

"Charlie, I need you to count the till, wanna get out early tonight." Christina kiss-my-ass Peterson shook me out of my reverie.

"Do it yourself." I spoke back. Losing my job wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Christina marched toward me, taking the cig right out of my mouth, stumping on it the ashes hard like some prissy babysitter. She didn’t know I took a puff before and blew smoke in her face, smirking.

Her face flustered and I was proud of myself for a moment.

"Get inside now." Her tone was attempting to scare me but it slid passed honestly. "Cut the shit." She looked at me up and down. I swear she must be a les by now.

I rolled my eyes as she turned around, giving me the disapproving eye before disappearing back in the store. I kicked an empty Yeagarmeister bottle against the wall watching it smash loudly, the pieces scattered around me. I’m good at despising things. This is what I do best. Bug and get on everyone’s nerves so they want nothing to do with me in the end.

In this world, in every sense, we’re kind of alone. I am just more vocal about it than most. Homeless people tend to understand this more than your typical celebrity. They’ve got nothing to lose. Even their lives are expendable but they know the truth. I do understand why the suicide rate in this country has risen. Being a religious junkie shouldn’t stop anyone from doing something we all will come to anyway.

Suppose its politically incorrect, I don’t know. Tons of people wanna live forever and it’s useless. Why would you want to? Especially if your life is filled with naysayers and ne’er do wells clogging up where accomplishments should be.

I am bitter, fuck you, I am proudly bitter. I don’t try to hide it either like most.

I glanced at my dead cig before stomping to the back door, opening it up ready for earfuls coming my way. Just good old Christina, keeping us in line. You can’t fully be yourself here and you get a gold star with reaping rewards when you act like your shit don’t stink. It’s the way of the land in this fluorescent warehouse of clutter. If weren’t for all the people, I’d find it decently amusing. For now I find it awkwardly lampoonable.

Wal-Mart, like New York, doesn’t sleep. I knew it was just Christina and I since all of the lights were shut off in the main house ware departments.

I dragged my relatively alive corpse toward the employee office. It smelled like old avocados and Rubbermaid sheets. Christina glanced at me through her half glasses, this old bag could use a few days out of the sun but good luck telling her that without triggering a hot flash. Her big blue eyes targeted where I stood and I crossed my arms while she was signing some documents on her desk.

"Sit Charlotte." She said sternly, earning a roll of my eyes. I didn’t budge.

"Why?"

"Because I have something to tell you and I need your full attention."

What the hell? I’m not interested in having heart-to-hearts. “Is it a lecture cuz I’m not in the mood?”

She scoffed and pulled up the metal chair with the broken cushions. This place is really going out of their way to make us feel at home.

I moved forward when she stared at me, blue eyes enlarged like a dragon. I finally sat down as she clipped a few papers together, binding them into a section of the folder envelop. Did she want me to watch her?

She took off her glasses that were attached to her neck, it hung loosely as I waited, my hands stuffed between my lap. She looked far off; it was like she was rehearsing it all in her head.

"I need you to work the holiday. Register. My sister is going into surgery and I have to be there for her."

"Chris—"

"Charlotte, I need this." She stared me strongly, holding my attention as she smiled sadly. "I have to be with her."

I’m not a fan of doing favors for other people, especially if I’m not getting anything from it. The look she had right now would have made my heart crack slightly if it wasn’t so exaggerated. Christina’s sister was in really bad shape. I couldn’t keep track of all her health issues since it had nothing to do with me. Christina would often make it my problem. It’s like she wants me to care and cry with her.

I winced, rubbing my eyes, already bored out of my mind. “Fine, whatever. Keep the details to yourself.” I stood up without excusing myself from the office.

"You know, Charlie, it couldn’t hurt if you were a little more compassionate." Christina said behind me.

I felt her walking up to me, she had her advice giving voice turned on and I felt like choking her.

"I said I would do it. What more do you want?" I threw my hands up; annoyed I was having this conversation to start.

I walked over to the till banks, doing what I normally do. Christina still would not let up. I could feel her breathing on me as she just stared at me for a few seconds.

"A heart for one. It doesn’t make you a bad person to be more caring. One day you’ll regret being so callous."

I narrowed my eyes but didn’t turn to her. “You don’t know me.”

"And neither do you sweetie. Your behavior is the worst it’s ever been. Whatever is making you so mad just get some help. Then people here won’t find you so offensive."

"Christina, leave me the fuck alone. I said I’d cover the shifts. This is where the talking ends."

She was quiet for a long moment and I thought she was finally going to cease the bull shit.

"One day someone is going to make you see how being this way isn’t getting you anywhere. It’s going to be a big wake up call."

I gritted my teeth. I’ve had enough. I pushed the till tray and I saw her jump up. My sudden rage shook her up. “You don’t know me old lady. Let’s stick to what we know.”

She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. My one rule in life is don’t judge what you don’t know or who you don’t know.

Christina’s attempts at trying to understand me never seem to come through. She just wouldn’t get off this bull shit. It’s not like I shut myself away from everyone.

Just to coworkers. One day she’ll get over it. I don’t worry so much. In fact I don’t make worrying a full time job. I’ll leave that to her. Thank god she left me alone for the rest of my closing moments.

I finished bounding the money and charts, doing my last checks around the store. It was completely dark by the time I came to the entrance. Clocking out, I did a once over like always.

I took off my blue vest but kept my name tag. I turned it over when I walked outside back into the breeze. Didn’t want people knowing my name for free unless I was on the clock. I pulled a brand new cig out; blazing that fucker like my life depended on it. The irony is sweet isn’t it?

I checked my phone. A bunch of mixed calls from my mom, the usual shebang. I left my twitter on, like anyone ever messages me on there. My mentions are practically zilch since I signed up, which wasn’t too long ago.

Something caught my eye though as I looked at my followers.

Huh? This is weird.

I looked at my phone wondering what the hell was going on.

"Who’s Troy?"

Notes