Every Sunday by Peter Pezzelli

Author:Peter Pezzelli [Pezzelli, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-01-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Remember what I told you about the plates, you know, the ones God’s got spinning up over His head like those performers you see? Well, right about now is when the plates start to wobble a little, so you know it’s not going to be too long before some of them hit the pavement. Of course, in Johnny’s case, the plates are more likely to hit him right in the head, but he can’t see that coming yet. He’s got things on his mind.

So there he is, bleary-eyed, reading the letter from American Hardware Stores for about the three-hundredth time since it came in the mail. With a sigh, he lets the letter drop to the top of the desk, rubs his eyes, and lets out a yawn. Overhead, the rays of the rising sun are filtering through the small, grimy window, casting this soft amber glow all about the little office at the back of the shop. The muted light gives everything a surreal quality as if it’s all something from a very old photograph. It’s actually pretty neat.

Anyhow, Johnny’s made it to the shop early this morning, figuring he’d get a head start on the backlog of paperwork he’s got piling up.With any luck, he might get a lot done before customers start parading in. Instead of doing his work, however, he’s wasted most of the time rereading the stupid letter, particularly the part about receiving the “fairest possible return on his investment.” Johnny’s no accountant, so he can’t help wondering how much “fair” would be. He’s tempted to pick up the telephone to find out the answer to that question, but he knows that no one would be there to take his call at that hour. So, like always, he folds the letter and tucks it back into the desk drawer, figuring he’ll get around to contacting them one of these days.

“Why would I want to give up this paradise anyways?” he says aloud to no one. He shoves the desk drawer shut and mopes off into the shop.

Johnny’s in a little bit of a mood because it’s Monday and Johnny has always hated Mondays.As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing good about them. No one has ever accused Johnny of being a workaholic so, for him, Monday represents the depressing passage into oblivion of another precious weekend, not to mention the equally depressing prospect of an entire workweek stretching out before him until the next weekend comes along. Worst of all is the fact that this particular Monday is inventory day. Johnny’s going to spend the better part of the morning trudging up and down every aisle, counting merchandise so that, later that afternoon, he can order new stock from his suppliers. Tell you the truth, I hated doing inventory myself. It’s the pits.

With his clipboard in hand, Johnny reluctantly sets to work. He moves steadily down the first aisle, checking off items as he goes along. It’s not rocket science, mind you, but it’s pretty tedious because you have to pay attention to what you’re doing.

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