#(if the delivery guys HAD found it in the customer's old washing machine it would have been mad as hell probably but unhurt)

[fates-theysband]

that one post that's like "every week, there is a new main character of twitter. your goal is to never be it" applies to my job too. every day, there is someone on the floor who has everyone in the adjacent cubes whispering "oh my god their customer asked for what" to each other. your goal is to never be that agent.

i was that agent today. imagine, if you will, being the next cube over from me at the call center:

"thank you for calling [company], this is [deadname], who do i have the pleasure of speaking with? i'm doing great, [other agent calling on customer's behalf], how are you? that's great! so what seems to be going on with this order? it's early enough in the day that the drivers should still be on their route, yeah. ...i'm sorry, i'm just making sure i heard you correctly, he says what might be in the haul away unit? okay, uh...is it alright if i put you on a brief hold while i call the carrier? alright, thank you very much and i'll be right back with you!"

"good afternoon, [carrier agent], this is [deadname] from [company], i'm calling in regards to a delivery and haul away today for [customer], he's stop 4 on route 20 (not his actual route and stop), and he says that he thinks his cat might be in the washing machine the team hauled away? yeah, like the animal. a black cat. yeah i'd be happy to hold while you call the drivers."

[eldritchdrakon]

Short story 03: Mannequin

This is one of my oldest stories, written almost 3 years ago. Unlike my others, this isn’t fantasy. Just give it a read and lemme know what you think!

  I ran for my life. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my whole body screaming in urgency. I glanced over my shoulder and yes, he was still in focused pursuit, his serrated blade glinting in the twilight, his intense red eyes glaring at me vindictively. 

   Didn’t make any sense, did I? Let me start from the beginning. My name is Sheena. I’m doing my arts degree at Higgin’s University. I live alone, which led to me working part-time at a retail store. Between college and all the night shifts, I have almost no time for anything else. A pretty boring life. Not many friends either, just Amanda, who used to be my neighbour. 

  This morning, on my way to painting class, I caught sight of Ethan, a member of the football team. Highschool heartthrob with a goofy grin that could make anyone weak in the knees. Bright blue eyes and messy brown hair were added bonuses. 

  I got irritated every time I saw him. For one, seeing him made my feet unsteady. Also, I got a gurgling in my stomach which felt like puking, but a lot more pleasant, know what I mean? I think I might’ve had a crush on him, along with almost every other girl at Higgin’s.

  In class, I sat next to a girl named May, pulled out my paints and brush, and regarded the gramophone, the day’s muse. It was nice and quirky looking, just the way I liked it, and soon, I was lost in the deft strokes of my brush. I didn’t even have an inkling of the fact that things were gonna get really interesting during the break.

  Amanda had a different schedule, so I sat alone at the cafeteria, biting away at my sandwich in silence. Someone sat in front of me, and I almost spewed out my half-chewed sandwich when I realised it was Ethan.

  “Hi,” He said uncertainly. “I hope I’m not bothering you?”

  “No!” I squeaked, and tried again, trying to regain my composure. “Not at all. It would honestly be an immense pleasure to share this table with you.” I blabbed like a machine-gun firing.

  He stared at me, eyes wide, and burst out laughing. Oh God, his laugh was cute. I wanted to take a video and watch it 25 hours a day. Creepy, right? Sorry. 

   “Well, I’m glad to hear that!” He took a swig of juice from his glass, and looked at me slightly… hesitant? “Uh, this is gonna sound weird, but I’ve never been good at roundabout talk… Can we, uh, grab a snack together after college?”

  My jaw dropped.

  “Rrghsblbeygygd..ss.. WHAT?!” I managed, slamming the sandwich onto my tray. My cheeks were steaming. 

 “Your reaction is making me embarrassed too,” He laughed. “I’ve been noticing you a lot lately, and I think I might have a crush on you.” He said, flashing me his gorgeous goofy grin. 

   I almost fainted. 

  “This is a dare, right? A lost bet?” I looked around for anybody watching or snickering. “A prank?”

  Ethan actually looked hurt, and his sad face sent me spiralling. “I’m… serious. I guess that means it’s a no? It’s fine, sorry, haha.”

  “NO!” I said, a bit too loudly, and a few heads turned towards us, wondering what the commotion was. “I’m sorry, I’m not at all used to… this… I’d love to go out with you!” I blushed furiously at my mistake. “Oh shit, I meant go out as in, go out for a snack, not go out as in go out, I mean, oh hell, what do I mean?!”

  He burst out laughing again, which warmed me right till my feet. 

  “Cool then, let’s meet at the front gate, as soon as college ends! See ya!” He walked away.

  I just sat there dazed, till my eyes focused, revealing the clock.

  “Oh, freaking hell!” I ran back to class, late by five minutes for the first time in my life.

  The rest of the classes went by in a blur. Art history, clay modelling, digital art class, and finally, sketching. 

  After class, I took a heck of a long time in the washroom, washing my face as brutally as possible, making sure it was squeaky clean. As soon as the evening bell rang, I dashed straight to the gate, and stood there like a guard, at complete attention. My stomach fluttered as if I’d eaten rubber balls for lunch, all of which were bouncing off its walls.

  I was terrified. What if he never came? What if this was all part of an elaborate plan? What if Ethan thinks he made a mistake? What if I creep him out? What if he finds out I watch cult practices and satanic rituals on Youtube? Oh hell no.

  All those thoughts imploded as soon as I saw him jogging towards me, smiling and waving. Who gave God the right to make someone so… perfect?

  “Shall we?” He gestured. I just nodded frantically, not trusting myself to talk.

  All along the way, Ethan kept trying to initiate some conversation, but kept failing. He gave up after a while, steering the conversation to me. “Okay. Sheena, tell me something about you!”

  “We-well, I uh, like art? And I read a lot of books?” I managed to stammer. “I also, um, work part-time at the retail store. Th-those are perhaps the only interesting things about my life.”

  “Oh, part time job? Got your future all planned out already?” He asked, clearly impressed.

  “That-It’s not-I just… I just don’t live with my parents, so…” I trailed off. Oh shit. I shouldn’t have said that.

  “Oh, you live by yourself? Cool, so do I!” came the reply.

  I sighed with relief. Really dodged a bullet with that one. 

  Ah, the café. We had finally reached. 

  “Table for two?” A waiter asked us, to which Ethan nodded yes. Never in my life had I imagined this particular scenario happening to ME, of all people. 

   I ordered a blueberry cheesecake, while he went for a chocolate sundae.

  We chatted all the while, by which I mean I nodded or shook my head to all the questions he asked me. I did manage to avoid talking about human sacrifices or blood rituals, so that was a plus.

  After the meal, Ethan said “So, I guess this is it? I did enjoy myself, and I’d love to um, ‘go out’ with you again,” He said, half-grinning.

 I blushed furiously and replied with a squeaky “Sure, I’d love to!” and watched him walk away.

  I jogged all the way home with a new bounce in my step, rested for about an hour, and then left for the store.

  The owner was Ms Kat (short for Katherine), a chirpy, amiable woman who got along really well with just about anybody. The workers all loved her as she made sure none of us, part-time or full-time, were ever uncomfortable. She was getting ready to leave just as I entered.

  “Hi Sheena! You look bright today. What up?”

  “Nothing much, Ms Kat, just been a great day!” I replied, as I put on my red work apron and tied it round my back.

  “Ah, I get what you mean.” She nodded knowingly. “Also, could you handle the store alone today? Nathan called in sick, and Pam is still on her vacation. I’d stay if I could, but I have some really important work to do…”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll take care.” I smiled.

  “Cool! Today’s been a slow day, so I doubt you’ll have much to do. Anyway, you can help yourself to the burgers I got you!”

  Ms Kat was also adamant that none of the workers ever went hungry. Every day she would bring burgers, donuts, or even the occasional pizza. Makes it awesome to work there. 

  She was right, it was a slow day. Half an hour passed by, with only three customers. A granny who bought earbuds, a couple who bought a lot, and a teenaged guy who bought a pack of doritos. 

  After that, it was pretty uneventful. I wolfed down my burger and cleaned the place up a bit, restocked a few shelves, called in for the delivery of milk cans, that sort of thing. 

  I almost dozed off at the register when two more people entered. An old man hobbling around with a stick, and a guy? He was covered from head to toe. Hoodie, jeans, boots, and gloves covered his body, and a surgical mask and coolers covered his face. All I could see was his forehead, which was pale. 

  The old man hobbled over to the meds section, browsing through the ointments. I went over and asked him what he was looking for, all the while keeping an eye on the hooded guy, who was looking through biscuits. Hopefully he wouldn’t steal anything.

  “I’m looking for an ointment for foot blisters, dear.” The old man said.

  “Ah, anything with petroleum jelly would work for that.” I found it, walked with him to the register, and checked it out. He paid and walked to the door. 

  The hooded guy turned towards the old man, and something about his posture sent a chill through me. 

  Without warning, he dashed towards the old man and I yelled “Look out!” and ran towards them.

  The poor man had barely enough time to turn around, before the hooded guy revealed an uncomfortably serrated butcher knife, and swung it through his neck, cutting his head clean off!

  The old man’s body crumpled to the floor. The head bounced once before rolling to a stop at my feet, its eyes gazing right at me in pure fear.

  I puked.

  I mean, literally. I vomited right on the display, splattering liquid burger on candy and cigarettes. 

  That was the least of my worries, though. The hooded guy gazed at me through his shades.   “Shhh.” He motioned with his fingers. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a red-lidded jar, filled with some weird translucent liquid. It was followed by a sinister looking instrument with 3 flat hooks on a circular base. 

  I stared terrified, tears streaming down my face as he grabbed the head. He stabbed the instrument right into the old man’s eye, and I screamed in horror. He pulled it out, and I could freaking see the eyeball coming out of its socket, along with a long sinewy strand of nerve, which the guy snapped with his gloved hand.

  My eyes rolled up in my head at the sound. “Urrgh,” I groaned, as another wave of nausea rolled over me. The guy extracted the other eye in the same way and put them both into the jar. He stood, walked a bit, then turned and kicked the head. Hard. The bleeding head flew above the shelves, landing right into the fresh meat section. He burst out laughing and disappeared out of the store. 

  The laugh was oddly similar to Ethan’s, but way more high-pitched. I pushed those thoughts out of my head, and hurriedly began packing all my things. I had to get out fast and bring the matter to the police. I got the disc from the security cams, rushed out, closed and locked the shutters, and took off. 

  I turned round the corner and found myself staring at the killer, his face barely inches from mine. I let out a sharp gasp, pushing him away. He stumbled, his hood and shades falling off. 

  It was Ethan. 

  It was Ethan, but his eyes were an intense, fiery red. Otherwise, right from his brown hair to the rest of his face, he was Ethan. 

  I sobbed in confusion and ran. Ethan followed. I’m not athletic and I tire easily, but I had to keep running, or I’d die. 

  I ran for my life. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my whole body screaming in urgency. I glanced over my shoulder and yes, he was still in focused pursuit, his serrated blade glinting in the twilight, his intense red eyes glaring at me vindictively.

  I ran, swerving into random streets, not knowing where I was going, but no matter where I turned, Ethan was always right behind me, no sign of exhaustion. 

   I collided with someone, and we both fell to the ground. ‘This is how it ends,’ I thought. ‘Slaughtered while assaulting random citizen.’

  I braced myself for the impact of cold steel through the back of my neck, but none came.

  “Sheena?” I heard someone. 

  I opened my eyes and found myself in a very unflattering position right on top of Ethan. Blue eyes! Different clothes! Regular Ethan! Thoroughly embarrassed, I pulled myself away and apologized. 

  “Don’t worry, I was just caught by surprise, that’s all” He laughed. “Damn, you’ve got a nice tackle.”

  “Ethan, help. There’s a murderer looking for me.”

  “Wait, what?”

  I told him pieces of the story, and he listened with rapt attention.

  “Oh my God,” he exclaimed when I finished. “My house is just two buildings from here. Come inside, you’ll be safe.”

  On any other day I would’ve refused, even flat-out rejected the idea. In my current predicament though, that was the best option. 

  He led me inside and showed me to the living room. I stood around awkwardly for a while, and then asked him “Hey, can I borrow your phone? I need to call the police.”

  “Yeah, sure. My phone’s upstairs. I’ll get it for you.” He ran up the stairs. 

  I sat on the sofa, twiddling my thumbs. This was an individual house, and Ethan lived alone. It wasn’t luxurious, but still, should be expensive, especially for someone who didn’t even have a part-time job. 

  I waited for slightly over five minutes. “Ethan? Everything okay up there?” I called out. No reply. I slowly climbed up the stairway. “Ethan?” I looked around hesitantly and discovered that there was only one room in the whole floor. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

  My eyes popped open in fright. The whole room was cluttered with body parts! I gagged for a short while before realizing that they were fake, probably plastic or rubber. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Ethan was an artist too? I walked further inside, turned around the corner, and gasped. 

  About three dozen completed mannequins, both male and female, glared right back at me. They were severely creepy to look at. It didn’t help that all of them were naked and, ah, had very detailed anatomy.

  My eyes fell on a jar. A red-lidded jar filled with translucent liquid. Now empty.

  “Oh Sheena, you should’ve waited downstairs.”

  My head jerked back and I saw Ethan standing behind me. One of his eyes was red, and his hand held a contact lens case. 

  He was grinning, but it wasn’t goofy or charming. It was downright horrifying. The serrated butcher knife in his other hand dripping blood on the floor didn’t exactly help me calm down. 

  “You-You-” I stuttered, whipping my eyes back and forth for a way to escape, not very successfully. 

  Without uttering a word, he dashed forward and caught my hands in a lock, dropping the lens case and the knife in the process. I struggled to escape, kicking at him. My weak kicks didn’t seem to faze him, and he stood there receiving them, grinning all the way. Without warning, he grabbed the front of my shirt and ripped it off my body. 

  I quickly tried to cover my chest, but he used that to his advantage and knocked my head into the wall. Hard.

  I was dizzy. Everything looked blurry and there was a buzzing in my ears. I could feel Ethan diligently stripping off the rest of my clothes, my mind screaming at my body to stop him.

  My sluggish arms and legs refused to move. The bastard hoisted my naked body onto his shoulders and carried me to the end of the room, to what looked like some kind of tub, filled with a hot, bubbling liquid. 

  He dropped me in.

  It was scalding hot! I thrashed my now-active limbs in pain, as the heat seared through me. It was boiling wax! I tried to scream, but my mouth was muffled by the wax filling it. I lost my hearing, my sight, and my breath as the wax plugged everything shut. The only thing I felt was the pain.

  When I couldn’t hold my breath any longer, and my mind almost blanked out, I finally realized why the mannequins seemed so lifelike. 

  Also, it seemed like I was gonna join his collection of wax figures. Permanently.

 “Phew.” I wiped my brow. She took quite a bit of work to get ready. She still struggled, long after she became solid. Impressive. I bent a few limbs, arched her back, assembling her into a crouching pose, like a woman getting ready to run. 

  I smiled at the jar beneath her. Her lovely green eyes stared back at me, bobbing up and down, emotionless. 

  I stepped back and admired my work. Sheena was already a work of art, but now she was a masterpiece!

  Hello! My name is Ethan. My hobbies are football and mannequin collecting. Nice to meet you! Maybe we can grab a snack together sometime?

Yeah, this was a much longer story than my previous ones. I don’t know how I feel about this. (too much PUKING oh my God) On one hand, I’m proud of it because romance and reality are both uncharted territory for me, and on the other, I don’t know how well they are represented. I would love it if you leave a comment, and reblogs would be massively appreciated!

I’m leaving links to my previous two short stories, check em out if you haven’t already!

https://eyelessfatdragon.tumblr.com/post/174523097885/short-story-01-flame

https://eyelessfatdragon.tumblr.com/post/174746750495/short-story-02-distortion

I’m tagging my friends here, please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future short stories! (or even if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, lol) @kiaradimari, @ratracechronicler, @k-nichelle-the-writer, @theplantpoweredwriter, @perringwrites, @whollyart

[billinghamn]

2019 Feb – Setting Up our New Home: Week 6 (Mon 11 Mar to Sun 17 Mar)

Mon 11 Mar

Wayne came back to do some further work on the under stairs cupboard. He was happy with the revisions to the kitchen plasterboard and will be able to plaster it either today or tomorrow.

Jamie arrived with his mate to do final plastering over of holes in four rooms, and preparing them for painting later today.

Clint and Paul, the kitchen fitters arrived to reverse the washing machine door, to add a filler, and to fix the oven housing side that is sticking out. I also talked to Clint about my proposal for fitting a housing unit around the CU. He didn’t want to do it, but he thought he might know where a spare boiler housing unit might be stored (in plot 133). Unfortunately, he couldn’t find them – he’s leaving some bits for me though, so hopefully I’ll be able to make some progress with the CU housing.

Paul also removed a bit of the oven housing that was jutting out and splitting the long run of kick board in two. Replaced the kick board so looks unbroken now.

The new outdoor light and sensor for the HOG arrived, together with a new fancy hose gun. I’m sure we packed our old hose gun, but we have been having to cope with the standard hose jet thing that comes with the autoreel.

Fitted the HOG lampshades (from Ikea) – bit of a nightmare and then had to order two E27 Hue bulbs off Amazon – should arrive tomorrow.

Fitted a second CCTV camera which has visibility of the back garden and the HOG door. A couple of the screws were really difficult to screw in, and I had to revert to shorter screws. It was a trouble because I had to use the screwdriver with my left hand. I tried moving the ladder to the other side of the corner, but it was too dangerous. So I have ordered a corner stabiliser, which should help a lot.

Finally got the camera set up, and went inside to hook it up to the DVR. Since I didn’t know which if the three remaining cameras were hooked up, I had to connect all of them to the power and one by one I connected the video feed. The CCTV system clearly doesn’t like that arrangement. As soon as I did that, the existing camera went off line. After some testing/trialling, I deduced that the system doesn’t like power being applied to cameras which are not connected – weird.

Tue 12 Mar

Another windy day today, which meant I heard the eerie squeal that Andrew referred to when he stayed at the weekend. I went outside when I got up at 4am when it was still windy to find out where it was coming from. It’s the gate latch which is scrapping over itself (metal on metal), as the wind blows it – there’s a bit of give in the gate, and it’s this short distance of movement that is creating the squeal. I need to reduce that give, so that the gate is as tight as it can be.

Kevin, the painter and decorator, arrived to work on the architraves. A lot of the screw holes are proud of the door frames, so they need sanding down.

Some foreign guys arrived to lay the tiles in the under stairs cupboard. They also conveniently left me a few spare tiles just in case we need them.

Wayne arrived not long before lunch. I was out but Kev let him in. He did the first coat on the kitchen wall, and it’s already starting to look like a proper wall! 😊

I sorted out the CCTV cables in the evening. I had to disconnect the cables from the two cameras already installed, pull the cables back into the loft, and then drop them back down into the under stairs cupboard, so that the extensions were in the loft, rather than half way up the wall behind the plasterboard, at risk of being pulled apart. If only the wind would die down enough to allow me to fix the other cameras in position! Got a ladder corner stabiliser arriving on Wed.

The Dyson stand arrived, and I built that. Looks great, but takes up a fair amount of space. Worthwhile though in my opinion. Will see what Vick thinks when she gets back tomorrow!

Spent a bit of time talking to Kev and Wayne. Kev is married to a young lady 22 years his junior (lucky blighter), and he gets every Sat off so that he can go watch the football.

Wed 13 Mar

Storm Gareth on the way into Britain, suggesting more high winds over the next few days.

The M&S wardrobe that was broken on the initial delivery, arrived today. Had a load of issues with M&S customer support.

No workmen today. I finished off the cabling for CCTV in the loft, but it was too windy to actually fit anything outside today.

Thu 14 Mar

Wet and windy today (again).

Alex arrived (he’s a chippie) to do the skirting boards under the stairs. He was happy to do the skirting on the new kitchen wall.

Wayne finished off the kitchen wall and sanded it down. Pretty dusty but looking really good now, especially with the new skirting board.

Used my new ladder corner brace to fit CCTV camera number 3 covering the front of the house. Too windy and cold to do any more. Hopefully finish off the CCTV at the weekend.

Fri 15 Mar

Didn’t really do much today. Vick moved stuff into the dining room sideboard, and emptied loads of boxes.

My half pallet of LoftZone kit arrived.

Sat 16 Mar

Tidied up the garage, and moved the shelving unit back against the wall. Prepared for yet another visit to the tip! Still windy, but was hoping to get the CCTV finished off today. Managed to finish the camera at the front of the house, but the ladder wasn’t steady enough after about 11am due to the wind.

Installed a shelf in the utility room in the space normally used for a dryer. That will help us make better use of the space.

Started work on the coat cupboard – provided power from the dining room power socket – had to create two large holes in the dining room to support routing the cable through – managed to patch those up by the end of the day. Couldn’t complete because I needed some earthing sleeve, and I found that the back box I used in the cupboard had one screw fixing missing – will need to get a new one tomorrow.

Sun 17 Mar

Really productive day today. The wind was fairly calm early this morning, but biting cold. So, finished off the garage CCTV camera and the HOG/rear CCTV camera. Fingers were so cold it was difficult to hold the screw driver!

After a quick visit to B&Q, replaced the back box in the cupboard and installed the earthing sleeve. Tested the power supply in the cupboard and all was well.

Installed the shelving in the cupboard – two shelves – one on each side – I didn’t have any material quite wide enough to fit across without a break.

Fitted a 2m Hue light strip in the cupboard, and a Hue motion detector. The light now goes on as you open the cupboard door. It looks really funky.

Fitted the socket in the family room high window to feed power to the blind when it is fitted next week. That was fed from the Bed 2 power socket. Patched up the hole and sent a picture to our curtain fitter. He responded asking for it to be moved closer to the window! Some people are never happy!

Fitted the TV CAT6a cable to Bed 1.

[sandwichbully]

Frank from Philly, 28 August 2016

Hey. You want a cheesesteak review? Here.

So, today I was going to go to this art-fair / hotdog thing and buy a couple dogs. Why not? Neighborhood function, cheap, blah blah blah. But I biked up to the event, held in an apartment building basement, and took one look at the folks there - young, very young, looked like MCAD students that had healthy sex lives, dressed like they could talk to you for hours about Die Antwoord and Wolfgang Odd Future Kill Them All. So I said nuts to that and figured I would go to the Wienery, get a couple of Cleveland dogs and that’d be that. Except the Wienery closes at three on Sunday. So does Band Box Diner. So I said alright, let’s see what the cheesesteaks are at this Frank from Philly that Keith has never been to but has been raving about. (Still not sure how that works, Keith.)

OK, so here’s the first problem: Frank from Philly is in Dinkytown and you couldn’t pay me to live, work, or play in Dinkytown. The way Olive Garden is authentic Italian made by your great grandmother, Dinkytown is 1970s Times Square, and the way shop owners in Bowling Green’s “Four Corners” district have to hose the vomit off their sidewalks every Saturday and Sunday morning is a task I imagine Dinkytown businesses have to undertake every day from seven in the evening until seven in the morning JUST TO KEEP UP. Dinkytown is populated by college freshman, hungry for constant stimuli, usually meaning whichever curly-q’d-moustache-and-suspenders version of Mumford & Co is being rammed down their millenial earholes this month that’s playing at the Varsity Theater brought to you by Summit Brewing Company and 89.3 The Current, Great Music Lives Here. And for every reward I was granted in the form of an inch of eighteen and nineteen year old ass hanging out of Daisy Dukes, I was severely punished by the sight of two dozen tie-dye-and-high-top goons with burlap sack colored baseball caps and pinch-an-inch-ish chin hairs that were probably named Josh and could sell me a hit of weak acid. I would’ve taken the art school damaged kids in Whittier any day over these freaks, who looked like the kind of kids who’d never fucked WITHOUT the condom and were constantly poised for their next Instagram selfie, this generation’s version of the Clearisil commercial.

As previously mentioned, Frank from Philly is nestled in the middle of this shit, in a building with all the exterior design sensibilities of an LA Fitness and the interior design aesthetics of a repossessed Jimmy John’s.

Basically, I felt like I was walking into a dentist’s office in a city full of people whose women would never, ever fuck me.

I’m in line behind two typical Dinkytown goons I’ll call Thad and Braden (not Todd and Brandon, mind you; fucking suburban parents) and neither Thad or Braden can seem to make up their mind over what they want on their sandwiches, which is OK because the - oh, shit - stereotypical Asian tourist family at the register can’t decide how they’re going to pay. So it’s not like the line is moving.

Me? I know what I want: A cheesesteak. No, don’t fancy it up. I want the basics. I want the foundation. After all, you have to know how something tastes on its own before you decide to start throwing extra shit on it. (Which is why I always got the Italian Philly Cheesesteak from Caffrey’s, a cheesesteak with pepperoni and marinara added, because the regular one tastes like communion wafers on Wonder Bread.) (And no blood of Christ to wash it down.) They had the option for a Cheesesteak Supreme for a dollar extra which added peppers, mushrooms, and jalapeños or, as I like to call them, basics. But OK, basic at Frank from Philly’s is meat, onion, and my choice of cheese, and I went with cheez whiz, like you’re fucking supposed to.

After the Asian family carts their pizzas by the slices off to a table, Thad and Braden place their orders that sound more like fucking pizzas than the cheesesteak menus they were looking at and I’m beginning to think I don’t like them very much because these two Cillian Murphy looking butt-fingers look like the kind clueless dipshits that call Sbarro authentic. I couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly but it may as well have been a pineapple pizza chicken Philly with sauerkraut and generous dollops of mayo and ranch and of course Sri Racha like a couple of basic bitches - I sincerely hoped they twisted their ankles in a sewer grate on their way to whatever concert passes for Michelle Branch any more.

I get up to the register, the cashier asks me to give him a moment. I say sure, I’m in no hurry. That minute grew uncomfortably long, though, and I had to remind myself to just enjoy the air conditioning, for this is summer’s death rattle, and I’m pretty sure it’s six hundred forty degrees CELSIUS (worse than fucking Fahrenheit, I tell you) in the shade of a goddamned refigerator factory outside.

Eventually the guy takes my order. I want a cheesesteak. What kind of cheese would I like? Cheez whiz. They’ll have that right up for me.

Now, the sandwich is made to order so it’s going to take a minute. Or five. Asian family finishes their pizza slices, Dad comes up to grab a few more slices.

Five minutes turns into ten. Guy comes in and orders a pair of slices. And there goes Thad and Braden’s order. A family of real Eden Prairie pricks comes in and stares at the menu. Asian dad tries squeezing by to get to the pop machine. I scooch over and look back at the grill; three more cheesesteaks go on. Eden Prairie family leaves without ordering anything.

Ten minutes turns to fifteen. Guy with two slices, who was literally the last person to order, right after me, throws his plate away and leaves. Three cheesesteaks leave the grill. Do they have a delivery guy I haven’t seen? I ordered right after Thad and Braden, ten minutes before Mr. Two Slice and there was nobody between me and him aside from Asian dad coming back for seconds, my sandwich was as simple as they get. It stands to reason that I actually had a shot at getting my sandwich before Thad and Braden because of the simplicity. I start looking at Facebook.

Fifteen minutes turns into twenty, I’m actually contemplating asking for my nine dollars back because, at this point, I’ve spent more time waiting on the sandwich than I will eating it and that’s with a string of two - Asian dad and two slice guy - customers behind me who just ordered pizza slices. You know, slices. Of pizza. Already made. Really. How long is the wait on this fucking cheesesteak? And now the cashier asks me, “What kind of cheese did you want? Cheez whiz, right?” Yeah, cheez whiz. “We’ll have that right up for you, OK?” Cool, thanks! “Sorry about the wait.” No problem.

But it is a problem because I’m in Dinkytown. Putting me in Dinkytown is like dropping an unarmed ISIL member in the middle of a Gay Pride Pork Roast: I’m filled with an anxious, nervous hatred stemming from a core of beliefs contrary to my surroundings; I’m lost, adrift in a sea of Connors and Bethanies and music I don’t understand and pussy I’ll never get and I just want to get back to my neighborhood where people work for a living and fuck without condoms and smoke grass when they listen to Sabbath LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE and - “What kind of cheese did he want?” the grill cook asks the cashier even though I’m standing RIGHT THE FUCK HERE. Cashier asks me, “Hey, man, what kind of cheese did you want again? It was cheez whiz, right?” Cheez whiz, yeah. “Cheez whiz,” the cashier tells the grill cook. “Cheez whiz?” the grill cook asks. “Yeah,” the cashier says.

I stare out the window and I wonder if I will ever get home. I am a lost argonaut in the labrynth of the Minotaur and fuck you if you’re about to tell me I’m mixing my mythology there, it’s been a while since I read anything published before the nineteenth century so keep in mind that if you say one fucking thing at this point, I’ll make you kiss my dick and smile, goddamn. “He wanted cheez whiz, right?” the grill cook asks. Before the cashier can ask me again, I turn and say, Cheez whiz, yeah. Grill cook hands me my sandwich and says, “Sorry about the wait, man.” Hey, no problem, thanks.

I find myself a place to sit and try to keep my mind away from the Proactiv Solution commercial that is Dinkytown During Daylight and finally eat my sandwich.

It was big. It was nine dollars big. It was served open-faced and I’d witnessed a family of witless wonders eat their fancy salads disguised as cheesesteaks with forks and knives while I waited for my own. I however found no problem closing my sandwich and eating it like a sandwich. It was good. The meat portion was generous and the onions were soft but with the right amount of snap and sweet the way sautéed onions are supposed to be. I could have used more cheezwhiz, honestly. And the bread was great. Even as the sandwich drained grease out on to the wax paper on my plate, the bread did not get soggy. It was chewy without being rubbery or spongy and it made the perfect vessel for sopping up the grease on the wrapper, which I will probably pay for later.

Was it worth the nine bucks? Yes, absolutely.

Was it worth a half hour bike ride, one way, into the armpit of Tweeville? No. No. No no no. For Christ’s sake, even Lyn-Lake, with its Pabst swilling tattoo-sleeved nineties slacker-chic hipsters posing as cheesecake pinups and quiff-bois from your nose to the horizon has more dignity than fucking Dinkytown.

Was it worth a twenty minute wait on an otherwise dead Sunday afternoon? No but maybe they had deliveries. I really did maintain my cool and thank them and tip them and not bug them and they were really nice even though I have no idea why the grill cook needed two reminders that I’d ordered mine with cheez whiz. Still, though.

Verdict? I’ll go again if they ever open a location in northeast, downtown, midtown, uptown, West Bank or south because fuck me if I ever find myself in Dinkytown again.