First Find
Monday, the 1st of January 2023
Cheap Mart, 2:05
Some suspicious looking Punjab left this book on the floor, I wanted to return it to him, but once I head out to the streets, he vanished under the flickering streetlight. Was he a genie? Regardless, I returned to my cashier desk and took a careful look at this book that he dropped. The cover was old, so old that it could have been the first copy of the bible, or some other old books I don’t know. I’m a piece of history, not the historian. This book was surprisingly empty, I assumed its just a normal book so I decided to make this my diary. Why? Because fuck it! I work a minimum wage job in Cheap Mart, people treat the paper bags and coffee machine with more respect than us. Its a disgrace! This world is a disgrace!Its a disgrace! This world is a disgrace!
So about me... My name is Bootleg, at least my preferred name is. Fortunately I have avoided using my real name for a very long time somehow. I live right across the street on the 4th floor of my flat. I live a minimum wage lifestyle so I could afford Fuck-all. That might be why that hot blondie I hooked up with last week ghosted me. Either that or the choking and misogynistic slurs. God thinking about her gave me a boner. Anyway, just before Christmas, I found a now-hiring ad in front of this mart so I took it. Before this mess, I was a janitor for some corporate building in the business centre. But ever since the terrorist strike, I decided to leave. That was in 2019. I was homeless for the entirety of the pandemic surviving solely on soup kitchens and food banks. Somehow, I managed to survive. I also won a lot of street bets and underground fighting. Hell I was even an undefeated fighter before the pols busted the facility. Fortunately I had enough money to rent a broke down flat right across the Cheap Mart I work at now. Despite having another coworker, I feel so lonely. Maybe because Brian keeps spending his time in the toilet all day doing god knows what. Honestly, he is an unreliable and stupid ginger. I don’t even know how he didn’t drop out from high school, for fucks sake he’s majoring in chemistry! He could have been a lab assistant, yet here he is “working” in the Cheap Mart across the red light and underground casino.
2:15
A truck pulled up and new shipment arrived. The old Indian driver opened the backdoor of the truck, revealing a mountain range of crates. “C’mon help me with these boxes man! They sent you a fuck ton for some bloody reason.” The driver lifts the crates like they were barbells, his sweat drizzles the floor as he waddles over to me. “Umm... What’s inside those crates?” I asked. It seemed highly suspicious that the factory whom sent whatever was inside in a crate rather than a cardboard box. Another gas to fuel the skeptic stove is the weight. This punde is wearing a wife beater, he’s clearly used to bowling chairs, hell maybe even his own children like he was Jasprit Bumrah. Yet, his face is paler than a Gujarati. “I’m a fucking driver how should I know?” The driver responded as he exhaustingly places the crates down by the porn magazines.
“Oh damn Mina Khalifa!” The drivers dick rose up when he saw the body of Mina Khalifa, a rising Indian babe in the industry. Its pretty obvious why shes rising, her body was shining with passion. Her Sweet, exotic face is a chili that will spice out all men and women who sees her, her walnut hair is a blanket thrown on her head to her forearm, her Amber eyes are truly a perfect circle in nature, and her smile is the flag of confidence and playfulness, but, easily her most defining feature; those big, memory foam tits. That is her valuable treasure chest(s), two perfectly round pair of men-magnets that, not even the most chastised of men can resist the desire of. She is a natural succubus, and I want to fill her with my energy.
“Eh man, how much for this?” The driver asked as his nose is visibly storing blood in preparation. “Uh... 50 shillings.” I replied whilst struggling to keep a stern face. The driver searches his pockets for money, but is short of 1 shilling. “Shit! Please let it slide. I really need this!” The driver tried to bargain with me. My mind was clashing about such a small issue. My right brain says that I should do my duty and refuse to give it to him, so I start my sentence: “No. Can’t do that sir, you need to pay the full price.” The driver shook his hands together. “Please man, I recently divorced and haven’t fucked ever since, I need this!” He begged even harder. Suddenly, my left brain woke up. It was reminding me about my breakup and it played a song to activate my sympathy, that song, “Don’t Turn Around” By Ace of Base, had the melody, voice, and lyrics that forms the battery for my sympathy. And at that moment, I replied to the driver’s bargaining. “Hang on... I’ll pay you full price for it.” I placed 50 shillings from my own wallet into the register and let him take the porno. “Wait, you really paid for it!? You idiot! You could’ve just paid on extra shilling. Why did you pay full price!?” He was perplexed at my decision. But I know that inside, he is in heaven. “Hey...” I pat him on the shoulders. “Take my sympathy and fuck off.” I whispered to him. “Very well, fuck you too!” The driver gave me the V sign and left silently.The driver gave me the V sign and left silently.
