• Becca

Zippy Burger

         “If anyone had told me the events of my life would inspire me to write a book, I would have called them crazy, would have until the plan for my life got derailed by circumstance that is. The year was 2008, I had just graduated from university with honors, and everything was going according to plan. I majored in business management, and finance with a minor in liberal arts. As far as I was concerned my future lay in the corporate world, or at least the private financial sector. Full of ambition and tenacity I set out, resume’ in hand to start my new life.

Unfortunately for me, this was the start of the recession. Jobs were scarce, even for some one as motivated and well qualified as myself. When the first few job opportunities fell through I wasn’t terribly concerned. Both of my parents had come from very affluent families and had worked hard to see that both I and my younger brother were well taken care of. To put it bluntly, I was a trust fund kid. All of my schooling had been paid for upfront, I was already well into a mortgage on my cute little two bedroom bungalow, and I received a substantial monthly allowance. I didn’t start to worry until six months into my job search. By then my finances were dwindling faster than water through a sieve, and reality was setting in.

After many sleepless nights of deliberation I finally took a job at the local fast food chain, Zippy Burger. The hours were terrible, and the pay was worse, but at least there was something coming in as opposed to just racing out. Looking back on it now, I never would have enjoyed some of the most important influential experiences of my life if I hadn’t sold my soul to Zippy Burger.

There was a slight chill in the air. It was early September and the seasons where somewhere in between summer and autumn. The days were growing visibly shorter, and with night came the lingering scent of changing leaves and cozy fireplaces. I was making my way home from a double shift at Zippy Burger. The day had begun bright and sunny, but twelve hours later the storm clouds rolled in. My walk home in my neon pink and green Zippy stripes was never truly a joyous occasion, but walking home in the rain would only make it that much worse. As if tuned into my mental frequency the heavens opened with a deluge just as I turned down my quiet suburban street.

I paused momentarily to watch the rain glisten as it passed over the street lamps and porch lights just flickering to life. Curtains were drawn, televisions were silenced, a dog barked somewhere in the distance, and a raccoon skittered across my path into a storm drain. My little corner of the Earth was settling into a slumber. A car sped past waking me from my daydream and inspired me to hurry home. I began to jog the last few blocks until I reached my tiny lifeless home. Running up the few short steps from the sidewalk to my front door I noticed my house reflected my life. The poor neglected flower beds, chipping paint, and missing shingles gave off a worn and dilapidated appearance.

With my hectic work schedule I barely had time for sleep let alone house work. I let out a forlorn sigh and removed my sodden shoes. Picking them up gingerly by the laces I pondered on whether to bring them inside or leave them to fend for themselves on the patio. After a brief moment of consideration I tossed them aside, and opened the front door. Fumbling for the light switch I felt Stormy, my giant grey Tabby Cat brush past my leg.

“Stormy!” I yelped, tripping over my own feet and tumbling backwards on to the porch. A jarring pain shot up my spine as my bottom connected with the hard oak.

In the mayhem I had found the light switch. My neighbors now had full view of my soaking wet self sprawled out on my front porch, shoeless and crying for my cat. Stormy only looked at me with his enormous orange eyes and sauntered back into the house completely unaffected by my dire situation. I grumbled to myself, crawled back inside and shut the door. I rested my back against the door and closed my eyes still coping with the sting of the fall. Upon opening my eyes I was greeted by a ram shackled assortment of furniture, dirty dishes, and laundry that called itself my living room. Much like my outdoor chores, my indoor chores had also been moved to the back burner of my life. I closed my eyes again wishing that when I opened them again all of my mess would be gone, I would have an amazing corporate job, and meet a super awesome guy.

My eyes popped open to the same crappy job, same messy house, and all of the loneliness that came with it. I slowly drug myself off of the entry way floor and moped into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Just about the only part of my house that was clean and orderly was the kitchen. With the exception of my laptop and a few old newspapers strewn about the table, everything was in its place. I pulled a clean mug from its shelf and set about brewing coffee. “

To read more about Zippy Burger, and our distraught heroine as she continues to navigate her way through life pick up a copy of Novelties: A Collection of Unfinished Short Stories. Available now!


Copyright R. MacCeile 2018

#writing #author #amazon #selfpublished #indieauthor #nanowrimo #Fiction #shortstories #onsalenow

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