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Makin’ End’s Meat (or Die in the Street)

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I’m bored and it’s slow at work, so rejoice, journal, I’m going to scribble in you some more. You like it when I do that, right? Yeah you do. A little stroke here, an embellishment there~

Wow. Okay. I’m literally going crazy. I’ve also just realized that this notebook is probably getting more action that I’ll ever see. But then, action is so overrated, especially in post-apoc cooties-world, so whatevs. Rock on, notebook. You dirty slut.

So, good news: I found a job. I’m an esteemed ‘Customer Service Associate and Purveyor of Fine Goods‘ at the S-Mart here in town, more commonly known as ‘cashier’. (I like my title better) Fortunate, since I owe the hospital a ton of money (In cash, not bottlecaps) for fixing my leg.

I don’t know my boss too well yet, but then, I can say that for pretty much anyone here so far. She seems cool, though she could stand to be a bit more modest with the eye-shadow in my humble opinionado. I suppose I can’t really talk, given that goth phase I went through. And to think that I once thought a zombie apocalypse would be so cool. Probably a good thing the internet is gone. If anyone ever stumbled on my old poetry posts on that emo website, I would literally die from embarrassment. ‘graveghostgirl69‘? What the hell was I thinking?

The job interview was… interesting. While I was talking with Boss (why am I so shite with names?) some guy came in. I think he was trippin’ balls? He talked like Tarzan, called me a witch (or maybe the one that starts with B? That’d probably be more accurate) and Boss talked him down and locked him in the backroom. I guess the guy was her boyfriend? She’s either the most patient woman ever, or the whole thing was just part of some mistimed fetish roleplay that I’m just not hip to. I dunno, it’s none of my beezwax either way.  Point is, I got the job.

Since I’m a newbie, my access to what I can sell is limited. Surprisingly, no one in Arklay is interested in buying high-quality cat-food. Heathens. I’ll just have to suck up work really hard to show Boss that I’m trustworthy. Then maybe I can start making some actual money.

Hopefully, that happens soon, since I need lots of money to make my dreams come true. Those dreams mostly consist of me not dieing. Once I’m paid, maybe I’ll treat myself to one of Tera’s goat stews. That stuff isn’t too bad.

Now my tummy is growling. Way to go, Jo.


PS; Turns out cat-food isn’t that baaad~