|Uncluttered (standard:other, 1916 words)|
|Author: Spotlight||Added: Sep 06 2001||Views/Reads: 2701/1709||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Benny is recovering from a break-up by working at the Post Office. He is disgruntled!|
Uncluttered --------A Spotlight Story There were seven bins of mail and dropped letters which Benny begrudgingly began sorting again. Six of these were in various areas of the Post Office, large white vinyl bags with rusted wheels, duc-taped tears, and faded blue lettering. They presented some order in the mornings, when dumped letters and packages rolled across the floor like sea tides. The last bin was set underneath Benny's cluttered desk, touching his left ankle as he worked. Every fifteen minutes or so, Benny would carefully shift his ankle, opening the small, tan bin's garbage bag rimmed mouth, and slip a letter into the darkness with a smile. Little of his work allowed him to sit down, as he frequently trekked to several different positions in the mailroom to drop a pile of letters, or play as customer service for those who frequently bought stamps, or mailed packages. The other two employees only seemed to work with the customers if they happened to be passing by Benny's desk with empty hands. Something that occurred more and more infrequently. Carl, the muscles of the office, seemed to be forever sweeping when he occasionally walked by. And Andy, or Andrea, who also sorted mail, shuffled letters into piles for the individual mail routes behind one of the tall, overly-heavy metal cabinets that separated the workstations. She always tried to walk by with her hands full of letters (full enough so that she would not drop any and have to return), or deep in conversation with Carl, holding a broom over his shoulder. He was much more comfortable this way. One of his friends had jokingly suggested he take a job at the Post Office and to Benny it had seemed like the most plausible and spiritual revenge. After a fake and cheerful interview, the eight dollars an hour was his, and his demeanor instantly changed. He became sullen and blatantly mean to all of his co-workers, nothing over-the-top, but he never conversed, he spoke freely about how ugly Andy was, in front of Carl, and how stupid Carl was, in front of Andy, was always sarcastic, and never answered a question. Frustrated, his co-workers would stew over his comments all day, while the second they turned, a huge grin lit Benny's face. And gradually over the last two months, conversation had dwindled down to two scenarios in a day. When Carl would walk in and dump the mail: "There ya go." and a smile. "Nice shirt." Benny might say, or, "Yea, more work." And when Andy would happen to meet Benny while leaving: "Bye." with no expression. "Bye, shitface." said Benny, or "Shut up." totally stoic. Of course Benny treated every customer with supreme respect and cheerfully did as requested. It was the scenario, knowing that his co-workers could hear his manic change in disposition, that amused him. Maybe, they expected him to someday become disgruntled, so they continued to make the slightest attempts at civility each day. That, was the joke his friend had suggested. "Why don't you go work at the Post Office? I think you're disgruntled enough." When Benny actually did, his friends laughed, happy for him to finally get off his lazy ass, as they had another round of drinks at the bar. Revenge was the key word though. Benny wanted revenge at the world, at god, and most importantly for the one day almost three months ago, when he had received a single letter. At least, he remembered, he received a letter and not a postcard. At least, he was worth a hand-written letter. As Benny sat at his desk, sorting the few remaining letters of the day, he came across yet another. In only one day he had seen "Pookie", "HunnyBunch", "Muffinkins", "Love-a-Bug", "Creampuff", and now a hideous "Scoopaloopapoopadoo" was scrawled into a pink envelope covered in hand-drawn hearts and arrows. With a smirk and a flick of the wrist Click here to read the rest of this story (157 more lines)
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