PSL: That's A Real Lemon You Got There

[wastelandking]

THAT AINT THE ONLY THING THAT'S BIG
_{that's not true but hey you knows how it is}


THREAD LOG:
#1 Customer
Super Kawaii Tape Chan
The Massage




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Comments

The #1 Customer

[wastelandking]

The sky was the color of steel and rain hung in the air as a fine mist instead of doing the world the decency of falling and making a calming pattering sound.

The inside of the office was violently yellow thanks to the desk lamp, the nicotine stains on the walls and windows, and of course the man at the desk in the ugly yellow suit that looked like it had been made from the corpse of a 70's sofa. He slouched over his paperwork and occasionally let his eyes drift between the clock, the window, and the tiny black and white television that was balanced haphazardly on a stack of files. Wheel of Fortune was on and he both loved and hated it. He enjoyed imagining himself in the winners' shoes but also hated them for not being him.

It was almost five and he hadn't sold a thing all day besides a candy bar out of his desk to a person who was lost on their way to a vacation spot. He guessed it wouldn't do any harm to close up shop early. He pushed away from the desk and bowed his back out when he stood. It popped in two places thanks to his awful posture and the paunch he'd grown from several years of slumping at his desk like a gargoyle.

"Tomorrow's anotha day," he reminded himself as he turned the television off and reached for the light switch.

BUT LO! A pair of headlights lit up the front window of the tiny office. For a moment he thought they were from someone stopped at the red light down the way. But no! They were turning in! And they were parking. Badly. But they were parking!

Havoc straightened up his tie and jacket lapels and put on a winning smile before charging out into the drizzle like a soldier to war.

[nineredsquares]

"I don't WANNA stop here! Whyyyy are we stopping heeeeere?!" came the whine from the shotgun seat, as though they hadn't been through the subject a good four or five times already.

"I t-told you, Laura, if we found a mechanic before a hotel, we h-h--" James stopped midsentence to lift an arm and sneeze violently into his elbow. The wet weather had caught up with him, and it had caught up with him good. "--had to stop."

"The sign didn't SAY 'mechanic', it said USED CARS!" Laura snapped.

"Just... stay, all right? It might not even take that long," James said, although he had a feeling it would. Looking out the window, He could already see what he assumed was the owner of this place coming towards them through the fog.

Laura made a sound that was simultaneously petulant and furious, folding her arms and kicking the glove compartment door sharply in protest. It fell open with a thunk and dumped napkins and accidentally-stolen ballpoint pens all over the floor of the car.

James sighed and opened the car door to get out. He put on his own version of a winning smile, which was more like a flagging-in-second-to-last-place smile, in the process.

"H-howdy! P-pretty awful weather, huh?"

[wastelandking]

Havoc hated how he was trying to shove down the hope that this guy was gonna buy one of his cars. Getting hopeful just led to being disappointed and Havoc hated being disappointed! BUT. Time to put on his biggest, Trust Me grin and throw out his hand to take hold of James's whether he offered it or not.

"I'll say! You picked a fine day ta drop by and by that I mean any day's a fine day! What can I do ya for?"

He made eye-contact the entire time he spoke and tipped his hat forward a little to keep the rain off his nose.

[nineredsquares]

As the man's horrible mustard-yellow jacket and tie came into view, James felt the first upwells of frantic internal horror rising within him. Flashbacks of when he'd BOUGHT his car came to mind-- the only kind of thing that a nineteen-year-old James Sunderland could remotely afford had come from a lot just like this, and a huckster salesman just like the one rapidly entering his personal space bubble.

James swallowed his own internal soundtrack of screaming and forced the smile to stay on his face even as his hand was seized.

"Ah--uh-- w-well! I actually-- um."

He'd told himself that he'd Be As Normal as Possible (tm) for this encounter, but three consecutive seconds of eye-contact was about all he could manage these days, so he averted his eyes pretty quickly, forcing a laugh.

"I-I'm not looking to buy, exactly, uh... y'see, I have a tail-light out, and-- and I was hoping maybe I could get a new one off you? I'd pay of course, ahah..."

[wastelandking]

Havoc's smile never faltered, not for a second, but internally he was grinding his jagged teeth. He. Hated. Being disappointed. But he'd gone and hoped anyway.

HOWEVER he was not completely out of luck. He let James have his hand back and leaned back to look at the...thing...he'd driven up in. For the moment he did not notice the grouchy little girl in the passenger's seat.

"Well, lemme have a look." While Havoc was no true mechanic, he did know how to make a car look good and usually they needed all their lights before anybody would roll off the lot with them. He paced around the car, patting it along the roof and side as he did. "Can't get caught with a taillight out, no sir."

He thought about seeing if he could swindle James into trading it in, but as he looked closer at the old blue car he started to realize that it wasn't doing so hot.

"Had this car long?"

[nineredsquares]

Fortunately, for... everybody involved, Laura was currently in that sulky mode where she pretended everything she was angry about didn't exist at all.

As far as James was concerned, she could stay in that mode until he had his new tail-light.

He followed along, wringing his hands slightly.

"Oh yeah, I got it right outta high school... n-normally I take pretty good care of it, but it's been a... a bit of a rough few years."

Rough was putting it lightly.

The thing had more than a few dings in it at this point, and the hubcaps were a mess. The bumper was actually wobbling.

[wastelandking]

The bum taillight revealed itself. With one hand on the trunk, Havoc squatted down to have a look.

"Yeah? I remember my first car. Totaled it the first month, hah. I guess you coulda called younger me a real speed demon."

He laughed at his own terrible, private joke. And as he laughed, he jostled the car. And with that, and an echoing WHONG, the bumper fell right off and onto the toe of one of his shiny shoes.

"EYAOW!" Havoc hopped backwards, clutching his foot. He was so surprised, he couldn't even be angry, so he stood there on one leg in the rain and looked at the hot mess James had rolled in on.

"Y'know, buddy, I think it might be time to put the 'ole girl out to pasture. Because she needs more than a new taillight and if you tried to trade in? You'd owe ME for th' trouble of havin' the thing towed."

This Loser is Super Kawaii

[wastelandking]

James was not...the best employee he'd ever had. But he was better than that rhoomba he had that one time, so he let him stay.

Weeks passed and Havoc showed the overgrown boy all the ropes. How to talk to customers, how to properly dress and pose cars to attract customers, how to fix his coffee just the way he liked it so he didn't have to get up. You know. Important stuff!

It was a brisk fall day and Havoc was leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk, and eyeing the four-way, the only way in and out of his lot. He could hear James rustling around on the other side of the room and was mentally counting down to when he'd have to step in again. The boy knew how to do books but sometimes he got a little too close to Havoc's other business folders.

It'd probably help if Havoc had the least bit of organizational sense.

[nineredsquares]

It was very strange. Working again.

More specifically, working at something other than hauling crates off a truck or whatever other odd roadside thing he could do for a quick buck.

But it was a little like riding a bike.

Right down to making the boss's coffee. It seemed James could never escape being the office choremonkey.

At the moment, he was carefully (and slowly) slipping hanging folders into a drawer, biting his lip as he recited the alphabet in his head to make sure he wasn't forgetting the order. He wasn't, but given the fact that he'd straight up forgotten four entire years of his LIFE, he didn't want to take chances. He could barely remember to close the office door behind him.

Trailing from his sleeve was a jumbled lick of scotch tape from a small Incident (tm) with the tape dispenser earlier. He'd gotten most of it off and into the garbage, but apparently had missed a piece.

[wastelandking]

Giving up on the highway, Havoc glanced over at Sunderland. It had been pretty hard to miss the Tape Incident from earlier. He hadn't scolded the man, he'd just watched, amusement just barely hidden behind his I'm the Boss but Also Dead Inside frown he tried to keep on at all times unless he was talking with a customer. Goodness the trouble this boy got himself into.

But when he turned to fetch more folders, Havoc's brows drifted up. There was still some left. He'd thrown the bundle of tape away...jeez, hours ago! The corners of his mouth curled upward without his realizing it.

"Say, Sundahland. I'm glad you decided to stick around."

He wanted to see how long it would take.

[nineredsquares]

James stopped, and looked over his shoulder with perhaps the mildest traces of annoyance on his face. But mostly there was just that kind of perpetual lost, baffled look he always had.

???

Glad he decided to stick around?

Well, it wasn't like he'd had much of a choice...

But as clueless as he was, he knew better than to voice THAT particular thought out loud in front of his unorthodox 'employer'.

So he shrugged his shoulders and said, quietly, "I'm glad I could help."




Don't hold your breath, Havoc.

[wastelandking]

Ah...

Ah...?

Hum.

He folded his arms behind his head and leaned further back in the chair.

"I also appreciate you bein' so willin' to do somethin' a little outta the ordinary. But hey, in the end that means less red tape for you and me."

[nineredsquares]

Not even remotely sure what prompted the conversation, James turned back to the file cabinet for the sake of hiding the puzzled irritation creeping into his expression.

"... Well... Laura and I, we're... we're pretty used to taking whatever comes our way."



SWING AND A MISS.

JUST SOME FRIENDLY PHYSICAL CONTACT BETWEEN COWORKERS

[nineredsquares]

James's eyes itched.

It had been a long and stressful day in the lot, and now it was two in the morning and the stack of papers in front of him didn't seem any smaller than it had when he'd started around eleven. Even Laura had gone to bed-- usually they would retire off to the camper around the same time, but not tonight. She'd gotten sick of waiting.

The buzzing yellow lights in the office didn't exactly help, either.

With a long exhale, he dragged a hand down one side of his face and dragged the next insurance form to be copied towards him.

[wastelandking]

Meanwhile, Havoc was also feeling especially shitty. He'd sank so far down in his chair that the undersides of his knees were caught against the edge of his desk and his ass wasn't even on the seat. Customer after customer today had looked him in the eye and for all the world he felt like they could see straight through his disguise.

The only thing helping was the square-shaped bottle on his desk and the hilariously tiny glass in his hand.

"Sundaland...Sunundaland...Sunnnndahland. Sunny." That was easier to say. "You want somethin' to drink? I think I just lost four months off mylifespan watchin' you fill out that last form. Take a break, will ya? Glasses 'r in the fridge."

[nineredsquares]

Sunny.

Maybe it was just the booze warping the cadence with which Mr. Dynamite said it, but hearing Mary's old pet name for him coming from the mouth of someone else sent a shudder down James's spine.

But he looked over his shoulder, brows peaked.

The offer was another thing entirely.

He hadn't had a drink in a good few months. More because of the lack of availability than any particular effort on his part, but it was still something. With the opportunity in front of him, though, his mouth was already watering. GOD, a drink sounded good.

"... Are you sure? I... I don't know if it'll exactly make me more productive..."

[wastelandking]

"Sunny, we aint gettin' anything else done tonight. Today was a bust and we both know it."

He started the unflattering process of wriggling back up into his seat so he could sit like a human. His ugly yellow jacket peeled off of one shoulder and he fought against it in a fit of frustration before throwing it against the nearby cabinet.

"Grab a glass." He pulled the stopper out of the top of his bottle and waited for James to hold his own glass out. One smart thing he did was not hand James the bottle. He poured the taller man a generous ammount before pouring himself some and sagging in his chair again.

"I'm not a bad guy. I dunno why everyone thinks that. I sell good ca's. They roll, that's the important part!"

[nineredsquares]

The urge to deny it was already on his tongue, but he restrained himself and nodded morosely back. It was true. He hadn't particularly been paying attention to Havoc's difficulties-- he'd been more focused on his own failures, of which there had been plenty.

He literally could not remember a time when he'd been good at talking to people, much less selling things to people. And the scathing looks he'd gotten from some of the would-be customers as he tried to talk up the ugliest old Jeeps in existence had been plenty reminders of that.

Getting up with a groan, he made his way gingerly over to the fridge and retrieved a glass. It might be a bad idea, but wellp, Mr. Dynamite was right. Today had been a bust.

He lowered himself back into his own chair and took a sip, his tongue welcoming the burn as much as a dying man in the desert welcomes water. Yikes. Wouldn't do to overdo it-- he'd stick to one glass, and sip slowly. Yep. He was definitely going to do that.

Even the first mouthful was enough to loosen his tongue a little, and he spoke up loyally, earnestly.

"It's not like you lie to anybody... i-if they wanted something brand new, they could always go to an actual dealership..."

[wastelandking]

"Right?" He swiveled his chair toward James so he could face him, man to man. "Nobody goes to a dog pound expecting a purebred poodle or--what are they. Them little yappy purse dogs that cost nearly as much as that black van we can't get rid of. Every car's here's got stories, everything here's got stories."

The demon pouted.

"You know how I got into this business? I got lucky, real lucky one night playing poker. I won somebody's keys. It was great. I won another set. Soon, I had five sets of wheels I didn't know what to do with and sellin' 'em off was worth all the times I lost my shorts in those matches!"

Bla bla bla bla, Havoc relayed a couple of stories of what he considered 'his youth'. And that James, he listened. He was a good kid. He worked hard. He sucked at talking to people but by God he knew how to file.

"I feel shitty. You feel shitty? You've gotta feel shitty. You been stooped over them papers like a gargoyle for hours."

[wastelandking]

The door to the office swung open so hard that the plastic blinds that hung over the window fell crooked. It was evening and a pair of tail lights could be seen fading in the distance. Havoc staggered across the carpet, eyes wide and unseeing, hand reaching out to steady himself against something--anything.

"Sundaland, I am in urgent need of liquid aid!"

Havoc liked to play it cool. When a customer turned up their nose and left, he liked to write it off as their loss, but not today. Today he was plumb frazzled.

[nineredsquares]

James was, as usual, over by the filing cabinets.

He couldn't sell a car to save his life, but Mr. Dynamite's office had NEVER BEEN THIS ORGANIZED. No one could say that James Sunderland didn't know how to alphabetize things.

A few weeks ago, Havoc's dramatic entrances had visibly startled him pretty much every time he made one, but by this point, he was starting to learn what they meant.

"... They didn't bite?"

[wastelandking]

"They dragged me!" Havoc raked his fingers through his hair, scarcely keeping his claws hidden. "We got all the way to paperwork! They had the pen in their hand!"

Havoc slammed the door shut behind him and sagged against it.

"That's it. I'm ruined. I'm going under! If I can't sell a van with a carpet in the back to some manbun new-age hippydippy so-and-so what good am I!? I can't go back to the paper plant, I'll throw myself in the shredder first!"

[nineredsquares]

This was an EXTRA dramatic entrance.

James knew what that meant by now-- that is to say, 'ignore the wailing about the manbuns and shredders, and just go straight to the liquor cabinet.'

He ambled over and retrieved the booze without another word. Another thing he knew about the dramatic entrances was which bottle they warranted. Tonight was looking to be a vodka night.

[wastelandking]

James was correct.

Havoc bid him to flip over the closed sign and sank down heavily in his creaky desk chair. He moaned and ranted and talked about how they were going to be eating out of the trash cans with the raccoons as he knocked back tiny decorative glass after tiny decorative glass--and of course he shared. James had his own designated glass by this point.

It had Mickey Mouse on it.

Eventually the ranting stopped, leaving Havoc slumped in his chair staring deadly at the passing lights he could see through the crooked blinds.

"Ya ever get lonely, Sunny?"

[nineredsquares]

This working relationship had done James's old alcoholic tendencies no favors, but TO HIS CREDIT, he had never busted into the booze on his own. Even though the temptation had been pretty powerful, sometimes.

But rules were rules-- the NEW rule was that drinking was okay, if it was the boss's idea.

Even if he had to do it from a novelty Mickey Mouse shot glass.

The question makes him cough.

"--lonely?" It's a sad word all by itself but it takes on an entirely different connotation when it's being said from one man to another. "W-well, sure..."

They've already had the dead wife talk.

It was a very brief talk.