how he got E

"This is all a- well, it's a lot to take in. Do you mind to just go over once't more?"

Ok, here goes. My boss was always on my ass for not show'n enough initiative. I was just trying to do my job and go home, but he was always going on about my lack of motivation. I was work'n in a warehouse, right? You get that, right? Kind'a like this armory here, but for goods, shit people want. Sure, you got warehouses. What kind'a initiative am I supposed to show at a goddam warehouse? Sorry, damn. Anyways, so right, what am I supposed to do? See how fast I can take some crate from A to B or wash the forklift in my down time? Don't worry about what a forklift is. So, right, this guy is always on me for not giving my all but, I'm not my job, you know where I'm coming from? It's just an expression. So, one day, it's like a Tuesday, I'm like fine, I'll show some god- er....some damn initiative. I'm moving all these pallets around for shipping when I see one with all these boxes marked C A. That's all it said, C A, and normally I'd go ask fifty different people what I should do with the thing, but I didn't want my boss coming down on me and telling me to use my damn brain again. 'Coming down'? Like...riding my ass? Nevermind. Anyways, I decide I'm going to take care of this myself. So what do I do? I ship the whole damn thing to California, hell yes that's what I did. What would you do? It's a state out west, well, it will be. Damn it's cold, what month is it? September? Yeah, they don't fill you in on that part when they send you. Really I'm taking way too long but I don't like doin this or anything, don't think I do. Right, so, yeah zip, off it goes, to the Golden State, job well done. But then on Thursday this lardass, my boss, just blows into the warehouse like a hurricane, and I swear to God I think he's going to have a stroke, er um, a heart attack? and just whales into me, want'n to know why the hell I sent a whole pallet of fifteen-hundred rolls of Construction Adhesive to godalmighty California! Well, that was it, blam-o, don't let the door hit'cha on the ass Mr. Loughlin, three strikes you're out!
It wasn't a big deal, I was a temp anyways and warehouses always need guys like me to schelp their stuff around, but I did'n want to go to the next warehouse, you know? I did'n want to drive a damn box truck or run around working the garbage trucks or anything like that. I'd done that, get me? I was through. But it ain't like I got a diploma or nothing, either. So I was open to new things, just keeping my ears open, when I meet this guy. This guy named Buer.
Ok, now this is where it gets a little tricky, so just stick with me.
I met Buer, or Mr. Buer, at this place I used to go to and drink. One night he was there and struck up a conversation, started talk'n to me outta nowhere. Somehow he seems to know I'm a little hard up, and he starts talk'n about these jobs he has. Strictly under the table stuff, and he's wonder'n if I'm interested. Well sure I'm interested, sure I am. He says, sometimes, these jobs are a little dicey, but I've seen some dicey stuff, nothing new. All'a sudden he starts ask'n me how I did in school, how I did in history, stuff like that. And I tell'm, not too hot, right? I'm moving boxes around a goddam, sorry, a warehouse, and that takes a genius? So that seemed'ta make the guy happy, he kinda just smiled when I told'm that.
Ok, now just keep in mind I'm just tell'n you this to be nice. This ain't gonna make any kind'a sense to you, but I'm gonna lay it out there, just so you know.
This guy, Mr. Buer, game me a job as, like this, time hit man. He tells me who they are, and where I'll find'm and, bam I'm in like 1835, or, what? 1786? Right, 1786. And, you know, he tells me a little something about the hit, not much. Like you? Well, this gots somethin to do with some Dan Shays, I dunno. It would be this little thing, like this, that I go...you know, 'fix' and we got dinosaurs at the next Superbowl, or somethin. But in this case, you're my fix, Lieutenant Wheelock, And I'm sorry about that. It's nothin personal or nothin, don't think it is. And there's nothin you can do about it, either, Buer's got this list, and you were just on it, that's all. But I can't just shoot you and zip outta here, either. It's always gotta be some damn, well; for you it says: Died when horse slipped on ice. How'ya like that? How the hell'm I suppose'ta do that? I'm the one you should be feel'n sorry for, not you.

"Well, I can't rightly claim to understand it all, but, I must ask: How did you find me out here?"

You kidding? I could hear you breathing.



The line goes quiet and she knows her friend is trying not to laugh.

She: Stop it, you asked!

Her: What a Freak! That's what he told you? On your first date?

She: I asked him to tell me something, some little truth about himself.

Her: And he told you that?

She: No, no...he told me he was self-conscious about how loud he breaths through his nose.

Her: And?

She: And then I asked him why.

Her: Well thank God that's over.

She: Actually, we're going to try to do something this weekend.

Her: What? Why?

She: ...I kinda like him.

And she smiled.