Only Fools are Alone on a Night Like This

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

The factory was really taking advantage of its mandatory overtime, giving me a whopping two days off a month. I loathed it, but at this point I was just testing my limits. Partly to see how long I could go, but mostly because I was making a shit load of money, and the longer I did this the longer I could go without taking a blood bath. It wasn’t so bad during spring, but as summer rapidly approached and the temperature shot up, it was hot as hell inside the factory.

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You Win, I Win, We Lose

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

Since I was in dire “need” of doing some work, I applied at a factory job. Turns out that was the only step necessary and they told me I started later that day, so I went home to change into more work appropriate clothing. I ran home and in the elevator was surprise, surprise, Tiffany.

“Hey.” I said, pushing the second floor button and watching the doors close. She was dressed in a long sleeve brown shirt with three buttons at the top, two of them undone, not that I could see any cleavage anyway.

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Your Latest Trick Needs a Volunteer

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

Apparently I passed the initiation test with Martha. When she came back from the holidays she was so happy that she let me take him anytime they left for more than a day. She still teased, though, and I never did get another moment alone with her. The dog seemed to respond well to Buddy, so that’s what I ended up calling him. “You wanna take a walk?”  I asked Buddy, who wagged his tail furiously as I hooked his leash on. “Good, cause I could use a smoke.”

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Poetry and Prose and Martha

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

A week went by as I received and ignored several calls from Harold about returning to work. I came back from the grocery store and set everything down, noticing the flyer on the counter about the dog. I went upstairs to 304 to see if someone had taken him. A man in a stained wife beater with a trucker belly answered the door.

“Yeah.”  He said, sounding annoyed.

“Hi, I’m here about the flyer.”  

“Martha!  Someone’s here about that fuckin’ dog!”  He walked away from the door and I let myself in. The apartment looked a lot like mine, except it was a huge mess. A surprisingly attractive woman came out of the bedroom with a towel around her head and a robe around her body. She looked young, somewhere in the late 20s to early 30s range, and a thin strand of dark red hair protruded from the towel.

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Waiting for my Turn to Die

Previously on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

That night was my parents’ deathversary. On December 19th they met their demise, and it was the last impactful thing they bestowed upon me, so I always set it aside as my Christmas. Gift to myself this year: A new life. Started off just right with a diner fight defending my beliefs. Nolan hopped on a flight back home for the holidays, leaving me by my lonesome, so I took a trip to the mall to catch a movie, have something in the food court, and get some new clothes.

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