ADD much.

I'm sitting a the desk in the top of the Tech Center. J is on facebook. J is addcited to facebook. J is also covered in glitter. Why is J covered in glitter you may ask? I would tell you, but I must not. It is a top secret of epic doom which must not be told to anybody. Now J is making strange sounds with his mouth. He says "What's on my mind? my hat. and thats it." He taps his fingers. "Hold on," he says, "am I part of this?" He starts to read what I'm writing and buries his face in the epic shame of doom.
Im sick of epic doom.
He wants to know if i'm really going to post this.


IN YO FACE.

Blue.

Blue was a nice color for the season, being as it was. All burnt out reds and golds, as if someone has taken a match and lit all the trees on fire, and the constantly hanging over us like a heavy grey blanket, closing us in.
I'd hurried across the parkinglot before the rain could catch and soak me with it's falling tears.
She stood at the counter inside the hardware store, pretty as ever, long dark hair and big tired eyes. And her eyeshadow was blue. Like some chick from the nineteen-eighties with the smoky eyes and the raspy voice, except this girl just looked tired.
I couldn't remember her name.
But blue was a nice color on her.

Saturday.

"Where is Bill," Boss-man asks, breezing in through the back door and reaching for the phone.
"I just called him," I glance over my shoulder. He sets the phone back on the receiver and widens his eyes impatiently.
"And let me guess," he says sardonically, "he'll be here in--"
"--twelve minutes," I finish. The blue-eyed boy leaning on the counter shifts uncomfortably. I can feel Boss-man watching Blue-eyes from behind me.
"Hey, if you catch Bill smoking in the truck, let me know okay?"
"He does."
"Well he's not supposed to. Seriously. I could fire him." Blue-eyes nods non-concomitantly. I see a movement through the window in the dark van outside.
"He's here," I say softly. He comes inside. Boss-man smiles.
"Hey Bill, glad you made it. Blue-eyes is Lead today." Bill nods.
"Rough night?" Boss-man asks. Bill shakes his head, "Naw, I went to bed early."
"Must have slept well," I comment. He nods. Of course he slept well. Well enough to get to work half-an hour late. I shiver slightly wondering why the office is so cold.
Bill looks at the plate of brownies sitting on the counter, then asks to see today's jobs. He takes the packet. Him and Blue-eyes leave.
Boss-man and I sit in the quiet office.
Boss-man says something about Jezebel, the washing machine. Yes. Our washing machine is named Jezebel. She died last night. At least, I hope she's dead.
He comments on whether or not we should actually get a commercial washing machine or not. I hope we do. I hate Jezebel.
The office is cold and I am barely awake. Why did I volunteer myself to come in early. I counter my desire for sleep with the logic that perhaps one hour wouldn't have really made that much of a difference, and that I get to make money by being here. Yes, I feel that making money is a privilege.
The office is empty now.
Boss-man is gone.
The sky is slowly beginning to brighten from that early morning black to a faded grey.
Yes. This is Maple Valley. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes the sky is grey.
The office is cold.