Instead of celebrating after the sheepskin was mailed third class to my parents’ house, I was like a possum at daylight: skittish, road weary, and scared of radial tires.

So I showed up at nine in the morning to learn the mechanics of waterbed setup, dream mechanics, and the delicacies of entering the inner sanctums of people’s lives – where they spent anywhere from six to eight hours playing tiddly-winks with the puzzle pieces of daytime. I wasn’t quite prepared for Abdul, the boss’s [...]

Dave’s assistant manager handed me a work shirt the next day after my training, such as it was, with Abdul.

There at the Turkey Creek shanty surrounded by thick woods was Frank, a skinny freak with long, tangled brown hair.

There were no customers in the store so Penelope was in the back room. Nose in a book.

The customer always comes first. That was one of Dave Hamilton’s mantras. I’m Okay, You’re Okay was another one.

The next time I saw Penelope she was with her boyfriend, Miguel Aguilar.

Hurricane Margo’s face must have turned as purple as her Buddha after Dave told her what happened.

When the doorbell rang a few days later, I went for the saltshaker,
figuring Mr. Simmons was looking for a refill.

The ambulance showed up that night without a siren and that wasn’t good because Mr. Simmons was already dead by the time they got there.