“Comes to $6.15.”

The same guy comes in every day after work and picks up a six-pack of Coors Light cans. I ask him why he doesn’t spring for the twelve- or eighteen-pack, seeing as how it’s cheaper and he’ll save more than ten bucks a week. He says, “I like the six-packs.” Apparently this man has trouble counting.

Working at a gas station convenience store is not all bad. It doesn’t take a genius, and you meet interesting people. The night guy is a 40 year-old subnormal who lives with his mother and drives a Trans-Am, for instance. He’s also got a violent temper if you don’t keep the back coolers in order, a point which has nearly brought us to fisticuffs more than once. Last time he gave me a problem, I just yelled “Go home to your mother!” as the adrenaline started to make me shake, and left. Of course, he can’t get fired because it’s hard to find someone who will work overnight six days a week for seven dollars an hour.

A line has built up in the store because of the after work rush, and a customer with a NASCAR hat and plastic sunglasses is complaining that the soda in the cooler isn’t cold enough. As he leaves, the two 17 year old girls who have been around here a lot lately come in loudly, clad in skirts and low cut shirts. And yes, their thongs are a lot higher than the top of said skirts.

Now, as fun as it sounds to have a couple of attractive teenage girls leaning over the counter trying to get you to illegally sell them scratch off lottery tickets, I have a girlfriend. So the whole thing is just annoying.

They pick up impulse buy items from the counter and ask me to let them take them.

“Listen, if you’re gonna steal, go back where I can’t see you and you aren’t on camera,” I said. “That way, I don’t get arrested, and you don’t bother my customers.”

As funny as it is to hear these girls speak unabashedly loud about giving blowjobs, I like my easy job, and I don’t need to get fired over this. I ask them to get the hell out, and they ask me for beer. It’s broad daylight, and these girls want to walk home with alcohol sold to them by me.

Seeing that they haven’t gotten the message, I politely ask them to get the fuck out of my store. They tell me they’ll be back later, and I should just leave some wine coolers out back or something.

Go home.

Air Supply’s “All Out of Love” is piped in on the stereo. There are no customers, so I just let my eyes slip out of focus, and the hum of the fluorescent lights seems to get louder. For some reason, after I leave work I have a dusty sick smell on my clothes that I can’t pin down to anything in particular. It could be from handling cash, cigarettes, and cardboard boxes all day.

It’s now six o’clock, and I’ve been here for two hours because Jack called me up to ask if I could take his shift. “Car trouble.” This usually equals “hangover.” I cash out an angry mom who can’t control her kids, who are dirty, mean, and crying. The mom has greasy black hair, a large t-shirt, and looks older than she is.

The phone rings as she wrangles her kids out the door with gratuitous yelling and hostility. Brilliant parenting, to be sure. Jack’s calling, says he’s got a ride and will be here in half an hour.

Excellent. I can get the hell out of here. My girlfriend’s waiting for me at home, probably doing her homework so we can go out and get drunk tonight.

I decide to spread my good fortune and smuggle a twelve-pack out to the back of the store, concealed in a garbage bag. As if my boss has time to watch all the security tape footage anyway.

The two girls come back, plus one more who is prettier than one, but less than the other. She has dark hair, sloppy large breasts, and a ghetto way of talking, as if she’s from the streets, and not this affluent suburb. The best looking one leans her tits on the counter and scans the scratch off tickets under the glass. She can only be doing this so that I can look without her catching me.

It’s just too perfect to be innocent, and it is perfect. She’s also got her mouth on the top of the 20 oz. soda bottle standing on the counter, and the crack of her ass is hanging out of her pants. For sure, this girl is disturbingly easy.

I let her know that there’s a twelve-pack outside and they should put it in their backpack and enjoy. She invites me to come over and drink with her friends after I get out, but I’ve got plans with my girl, Veronica.

“Get the hell out of here before the other guy who’s working gets in,” I say, and they trot out.

Veronica’s dog alternates between being unable to contain her happiness at my arrival, and barking her little fluffy white head off to protect her domain. Right now, she’s happy as a clam. I kick off my shoes and go up to Veronica’s room to see her with a smile on my face. I’m ready to relax, maybe have a quick fuck before we go out for the night; who knows? I open the door and there she is, her hand on the doorknob as I push it open and she yelps, putting her hand up to her chest.

I guess I surprised her. I guess I really surprised her because our friend Jeff is smoking a cigarette on her bed. His pants are on the floor. She never lets me smoke in her house.

She tries to push me out of the room, saying “Mike, come here...” Why is she pushing me? My vision shakes as the adrenaline hits me, I grab her by her fleshy, cool upper arms and move her to the side without real violence.

I step over to Jeff and the bed. Jeff’s standing now, with his eyes wide, starting to say something. Without breaking eye contact I break his nose with a moist crack, and hit him twice in the jaw before Veronica grabs me and blood stings my eye.

Jeff hits the floor, coughing. I even get some blood up my nose as I sniff, turning towards her. She yells something along the lines of “Get the fuck out of here!” I again move her gently to the side as she calls me an asshole. My knuckles are starting to swell and the adrenaline is still shaking me.

Veronica is still yelling. I turn to look at her and she shuts up, her mouth still popped open. I spit on her face, turn, and leave.

“I forgive you.”

Her little fluffy dog is still happy to see me. A smile pulls across my face as I pet her white head, and stain it with blood from my hand, from Jeff’s face. Outside, the sun is setting, and there is a welcome breeze. A bird chirps.

This is the best possible way for my relationship to end.

Everybody’s happy.