Page 8 of Rich and Bossy

She then pulls a glass of chocolate milk out and sets it beside the plate. “You look like you have a lot going on.”

She knows I love chocolate milk. I want to chug the whole thing right now and see if it’ll drown my problems away.

You really are a child. Like Paxton said.

That was uncalled for! Who doesn’t love chocolate milk?

“Thanks, Mom. Seriously.” I lean toward her, so she can give me a hug.

“Don’t work too hard. Get some sleep.”

“I will.” Probably a lie.

I’m too irritated right now to eat, but she’ll worry even more if I don’t at least take a bite.

So I do, grinning as she stands by the doorway.

She smiles a little when she sees it, then disappears into the hallway.

At least one of us is happy. I chew slowly, almost too full of resentment to swallow. Then I realize what I’m doing and pull the bread off, smother a layer of chips inside the sandwich, then smack the bread back on top of it.

The crunch is extremely satisfying.

You’re not a child?

Leave me alone, brain!

How do people like Paxton Briggs sleep at night? I wonder what he’s doing right now. Probably jerking off in a pool of hundred dollar bills.

Oh, we could watch that.

Dude!

Okay, yeah, he’s not ugly at all. He’s gigantic in fact; way bigger than he looks in the pictures.

Six-four, dark chocolate brown hair, and light gray eyes. His hands looked big and strong enough to crush walnuts.

Okay, stop!

His physical appearance and demeanor mean nothing to me. He’s heartless, shallow. I love comedy and humor as much as the next person, but you don’t make the kinds of jokes he did. It wasn’t funny. What his company is doing is not funny.

It’s literal evil villain comic book stuff.

Oh, and right after Paxton and I finished our little chat, Jim Schultz almost lost a finger because he was going too fast trying to remove plastic from a pallet of boxes. Went right through his finger, blood everywhere, cut to the bone.

What happened next was hazy at best.

Management did not look happy that he decided to go to the hospital for it. Insisting our on-site medical team could get the bleeding to stop.

Oh yeah, can they fix nerve damage too? The medical people at work try their best, but there are no neurologists there. It’s a three-person office for thousands of employees.

Management wasn’t happy because it’ll mean a worker’s comp claim. Not to mention, if they lose a guy for the afternoon, production will be down. It’s insanity. Every single day.

I slam the book shut and take a giant chomp into the middle of my sandwich, just to hear the crunch.

Why am I even trying to study? I’m just wasting time. I might as well be readingThe Iliadin Homeric Greek.

Instead of going through my notes to try to get something out of this study session, I open the browser on my laptop and do a little mindless scrolling through social media. Maybe it’ll help with this mood I’m in. A few videos of dogs and cats becoming best friends ought to get this train turned around.

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