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Short story1

Alexanderdeath25's picture Alexanderdeath25
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Spring time on Ontario Street Montreal. Sam Macgree's out buying a pack of smokes. The same greasy fuck with the open wounds all over his face asks him for a smoke. Sam's 25 blond hair and has perfect smile. Wears khakis and a striped dress shirt. The contrast between the two of them is the stuff radical's political posters are made of.

"look man you want a job?" Sam says to the disheveled man with the ripped T-shirt with barf dried up on it.

"I'll work! Get me a Job!" Says the man.

"come with me." Says Sam. The homeless man follows thinking Sam's some kind of perv looking to get his Dick sucked. "Just wait a sec I got to get these smokes and some beers.

At Sam's place which is a hotel up the street they turn on the TV.

"Satellite!" Sam says and chucks the remote over to the Bum. "see if you can find anything worth watching. What's your name?"

"Frank. Yours'?"

"Sam. Frank you want a 40?" Sam holds out a colt 45 to Frank. Frank takes the bottle. The time is 4 PM it says so on the little gold clock on the bedside table.

"your English is good, where you come from?"

"here and there. You know." Frank SAID HAVING HEARD THIS RESPONSE USED before by some one else and thinking it was a clever reply.

Sam spits on the carpeted floor. "you ever telemarketed?"

Frank was happy the question was not "you ever suck a cock before?"

"telemarketing, no."

"Listen today is Sunday and I'll take you down tomorrow and get you started on the program.” Sam takes a swill of his colt. "Frank what drugs do you do?"

There was something frightening in Sam's eyes when he asked this. Frank's skeletal face spasmodic in an ugly way with his eyes bulging. "Crack?" Sam said with a maniacal grin. A gangster smile. As if Sam's name was "Sammy legs" once apone a time. Although there are not too many blond hair blue eyed gangsters, maybe Russian mobsters.

"Yeah. Crack." Frank looked guiltily down at the remote for the TV and pushed buttons, "I'm a fucking crack head man."

"Frank I believe in giving people chances. I'm sure you've been given lots of chances.” Sam drank some 40. " I don't care what you do as long as you get your ass to work.” Pointing his finger at Frank. Sam continues, "Frank this job ain't really legal but it is easy, you just need to know how to bull shit, you know what I mean?"

Frank thought Sam was nuts and they passed out watching a starterk marathon.

***

At around noon the next day Sam woke frank up. Frank woke up disoriented and not remembering the night before. This would freak most normal people out however Frank was quiet use to it. The walls around the hotel room were adorned with paintings of tranquil nature scene that relaxed Frank and he rolled back over to sleep more.

"It's time for work. Here man I bet you have a hang over. Here take this." Sam handed frank a little white pill.

"What is this?"

"Lorazapam. It's the hang over cure pill." Frank sawlowed the pill and sat up in the bed.

They walked up to the metro. Frank was loaned some 'decent' clothing of Sam’s. Frank felt as though he was a different person. Sam handed him 20 dollar bill as they walked to the turn stall saying. "Angrion" and they walk trough the turn style and Frank broke the 20.

***

The office looked new. It was in the building above one of the McDonald’s downtown. Sam, on the elevator ride up to the 5th floor, explained how there was a gym on the same floor. He told frank that usually he went to the gym at 6 am every morning for a work out. He told Frank that it had been a "strange and excessive weekend" so he did not go this morning.

Frank had slight Butterflys in his stomach.

The first door on the 5th floor said "Olegs Catering LMT."

"Here it is!" said Sam. And the receptionist smiled at them as they walked in. "That's Kate, you like her, hey!" Sam said with a pat on frank's back. The pat was half welcome and half repulsive and phony to Sam.

***

"My name is Charles. I'm the guy who trains y'all. Now those of you that have done sales before raise your hands."

Charles wears a purple dress shirt, gold jewlrey, and an obviously expensive watch was sticking out on his wrist. Frank and several other Newbees sit in front of Charles. A room lit by intrusive neon lights. There is a poster of scarface with a pile of coke in front of ‘Tony Montana’ on the wall beside the black board with "ABC" written on it(always be closing). A guy with a full gray suit and glasses and curly black hair raised his hand.

"I worked for Explorations." He said.

Charles smiles down on the curly haired guy. "Is that Ronny?"

"Yeah that’s me." Said the well dressed professional in the expensive full gray suit tailored to his body by criminal Montreal mob tailors.

"You know the game then. You can start dialing." Charles opens the wood, varnished to a high sheen that the neon glared off into the eyes, doors to the large floor sectioned off in cubicles of dark gray. A sea of varying loud to calm and cool voices emanate into the Training room. Curly hair and glasses waltzs out of the room and into the noise of the floor.

Charles closes the door and rubs his hands together. "Alright I take it the rest you have never done this before. Right, well unless your morons or can't speak English you can read this script.

Sales script

Hello may speak to _____. My name is ________ how are you. We are calling in regard to (client's bank) are you aware that you have fraudulent charges on you account?

(Customer may freak out)

(Assure customer you are calling to help)--(get them to get there check book and read the numbers so you can secure the, against any fraudulent charges. The charge is 456.67. The same price of our services.)

"Quite the sales script eh?" Charles smiles. "Now this is kind of dishonest, but not illegal. But even if it was not legal we know you all. This company has an interesting hiring scheme. I know you are all homeless. I know you all are crack heads. We are doing a public service, really we should get government funding for this. It's a fucking service. But you're all scammers and low lives anyway right?"

Frank did not actually like being targeted like that but decided that it was kind of a public service in the end the company (scamway) was helping the homeless. They were all (the trainees) offered a singing bonus of 200 dollars. Scamway told the new employees the one's that singed, and most of them did, about a place that they could get cheap clean rooms. Frank found the hotel that night and walked up the steps and got room 127, which had a balcony and king-sized bed and TV.

On the way to the Dep for some beer frank THOUGHT ABOUT THE PAST SUMMER. AND HOW LIFE WAS SO BIZZARE. He'd become a crack head completely by accident. He'd come to Montreal with his girlfriend at the time, Gwen, who was going to Concordia University. Frank was not going to school. But his father had just died and he had some inheritance. Franks friends where boring him around that time and it seemed like a good idea to take off to a new city with his girlfriend and start something new.

Gwen was a beautiful girl and frank's feeling for her were deep and the feeling was mutual. However this did not mean that Gwen did not feel as though she was moving beyond Frank. Gwen had made a bunch of friends in classes at Concordia. She felt obligated to invite Frank to all their parties. The parties for a large part were extensions of class discussions which Frank thought and felt he was ill equipped intellectually for. Frank ended up doing too much coke and making an ass of himself. Being rude and overly dark about subjects like the meaning of life and other things where his existentialist views were regarded as boorish.

The winter months in Montreal were rough on the relationship. They shared their living space and their bed. By Christmas they were arguing about shit that did not matter but drove each other absolutely nuts.

Gwen and frank finally broke up during the spring and Frank went to stay with one of the recently dumped faction of the crew he'd been hanging out with. His name was Simon and he was going down hill quick with crack and Frank went with him into the streets eventually.

Walking to the dep this was all that went through franks mind. His mind was in the dank alleyways and dark dirty apartments that were his live up until Sunday. Frank had thought that the drugs would burn the memory of Gwen out of his head but all they had done was make him feel more sorry for himself and now the urge to call her was growing with ever step he took. When he got to the dep he bought smokes and beer.

***

Sam scanned the newspaper for an escort that caught his eye. Sam had never gotten a whore before but was high on coke and had just gotten paid. His idea abstinent life was starting to wear thin and he needed a release. His buddy Gitian was there and his and Sam's minds filled on sex after a particularly provocative beer commercial.

"Man I have never done this but let's get a escort. You know?" Said Gitian. Sam suspected Gitian was lying about never having gotten an escort before. Gitian was a greasy and perverted and had no game when it came to women.

"Sure Git" Sam said picking up the mirror and flipping through to the back.

"I haven't man!"

"Okay you want to get one now?"

"Yeah."

"Big tits?"

"Yeah"

"White black?"

"What about Asian?"

"Sure, but with big tits okay?"

"Yeah." They agreed on the body type of the escort. Sam found an add that seemed to fit the bill and called.

"Hello?"

"Yeah I want an Asian girl with big tits."

The voice on the other end got the address and said to wait 15 minutes. Gitian and Sam cheered and salute and walked around Sam's dirty Hotel room and bobbed their heads to music off much music. A knock eventually came on the door and a short Asian woman with a short mesh dress and fishnets on was standing there. Sam had answered and looked down at her cleavage and licked his lips. He let her in.

"Okay which one of you first." The escort said in a bored uninterested voice.

***

Sam awoke sick to his stomach. Gitian had to go. That’s one thing that had to happen. Sam looked at the reflection in the mirror of himself and only saw a crying little boy with red eyes. Then Sam remembered in flashes the escort service girl that had come by last night. He remembered her bored face as he worked to come which only had taken a couple seconds. Gitian had to go.

Sam went over to the pile of clothing that Gitian was using as a mattress. "Man I am going you have to go."

Gitian popped open his eyes. It almost seemed sick how quick he sat up and sprung into action to Sam.

"Yeah cool." Said the same old gitian that Sam knew so well. Sam was not the same old Sam. He felt worn out. Dead inside. Gitian stood up brushed his jeans straight and walk out.

Sam went out with Gitian so that Gitian would think he kicked him out because he had to be somewhere. When they reached the door it was Sam's plan to go the opposite direction but Gitian walked the same way. Sam stopped and started the other way. Gitian followed him.

"man I need to be alone Gitian." Sam said in a desperate voice.

"Oh okay man sorry." Gitian turned and strut his way off towards the nearest metro station..

Sam wished he could handle his life the way that biotin did. The party never went bad for Gitian. After a while for Sam, every no and then, Sam had to take a couple days.