soapboxdiner

His Lusciousness

So there I was, working at the Jack in the Box drive through. Summer, 1991. Lunch rush. Welcome to JITB, may I take your order, please?

Yes, I'd like a large chocolate milk shake, please.

Can I offer you some tasty french fries or perhaps an apple pie with that?

Ummmmmmmm. No. That's okay. No apple pies for me today. Thanks.

Okay. Your total will be $1.59 at the first window.

And I walked over to the shake machine (which never failed in splattering chocolate evaporated condensed milk by-product gooey-ness all over my striped blue button-up shirt and bow-tie.) I commensed pouring the milk shake and the District Manager walked up behind me. He stood just off-center to my right, so close I could feel his 5 foot 8 200 pound bald middle-aged breath rustle my braided and baseball-capped hair - touching me. Close enough to feel the heat coming off his pudgey gross little old fart body.

You're from Montana, right? I bet you're surprised that I knew that. But I was listening to you talk the other day with so-and-so. I remembered what you said.

Um, yeah. Montana. From Montana. Excuse me, please. Have some work to do.

Back to work. Lunch hours were long. Three hours of auto-pilotted talking and money counting and order bagging. And then it stoppped. After-rush clean and restock. I walked over to my girlfriend and said, Did you see that with the DM earlier? God he is just gross!

We looked over at him counting out tills and laughed. I walked into the walk-in freezer. When I came out, he was waiting for me. Standing too close, in my face and in my space.

I saw you talking with so-and-so. You were talking about me, weren't you? I know you were talking about me. What did you say?

I told her I didn't think it was very appropriate for you to touch me and breathe on me when you spoke to me. I told her it made me uncomfortable.

Oh. I see. he said with a shocked and exposed and infuriated look.

He never said another word to me to the day he was fired for sleeping with a teenaged girl from another store.

Friday I shared with Boy Beautiful that story to illustrate that yes, our manager sucks, but at least she isn't the worst scummy person on the planet to have as a boss. He wrinkled his nose and concurred.

Today Boy Beautiful walked up behind me and leaned into my ear and said, "I know you've been talking about me."

After having my heart drop and roll around on the dusty warehouse floor from my suspected transparency and shame, I concluded that those words have a wholy different effect, coming from His Lusciousness.

It's just not right to be so hormonally driven with someone so taboo. But that ooey-gooey yummy feeling is nice to remember. Oh yes. Definitely a nice, nice sensation. It was a good thing I was looking the other way because my eyes probably poured out sex. They are very expressive that way.

Sigh.

6:30 pm - 01.22.03
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