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.

When I arrived I looked at movies that were playing; All shit. Went to the food court, wasn’t in the mood for any of it, and strolled through five different stores and found nothing that I liked. Then I was stopped by one of those assholes that stood in the center with his sorry excuse for a booth. He was a tall, thin black man with no bass in his voice.

“Excuse me, sir. How are you?”

“No thanks.” I said.

“No thanks to what?”

“Whatever you’re trying to sell.”

“Well, actually, the only thing I’m selling is money.” He said, rather proud of himself.

“What?”  I asked.

“I’m part of a very lucrative business involved in selling top dollar cutleries at bottom barrel prices.”  

“What?” I repeated, even more confused.

“We’re hiring.” He said bluntly.

“How much is the pay?” I replied, just as bluntly.

“As much as you wanna earn. Work when you want, get paid when you want, all commission. Here.” he pulled a card out of his pocket like a master swordsman and handed it to me.

“Give me a call and we’ll set up an orientation some time next week.” I looked at the card. Harold Burner: Knife Salesman. I called Harold later that night, and the next Monday morning I found myself in his office. I wasn’t the only one. Sitting in the waiting room with me was another guy my age. Clean cut, kept his hat on, and his shoulders were unusually broad.

He could have been Superman.

How the hell did he fit through the door, I thought. We got called into Harold’s office at the same time, and I was anxious to see this guy walk through the doorway. When we were almost at the door, he turned sideways and shook my hand. “Hi, I’m Charlie.”

“Logan.” I replied. I let go of his hand and he slid sideways through the door. We sat down and listened to the sly bastard sell us this set of knives.

Literally.

We both walked out of there with our own set of the finest knives made by Slicers, Inc. They were real nice knives. They cost 300 bones, but the sheers could cut a pretty penny; of course I couldn’t think of anything that hard I’d want to try and eat.

He told us to write on a sheet of paper 10 people we knew who would like the set, then two people they could recommend and so on, almost as if a pyramid was developing, but he never mentioned that. He also offered an alternative means of selling the knives door to door. I had to opt for that one, since I didn’t really know anyone. Charlie was fine with selling to friends. Harold sent Charlie on his way, after we had exchanged phone numbers.

“You always want to keep contact.” He said.  Then he took me for a trial DTD run with some sleazeball looking dude. He wiped his nose with his hand before offering it up for a shake. I put out my left hand in the hopes of getting him to put his, but apparently I was dealing with a Jester who laughed as he shook the back of it.

Stupid fuck.

His name was George, and we were on our way to selling some knives. We got into the boss man’s Porsche and they all talked about how much money they make as we drove to a rich neighborhood where George and I were dropped off. I got out and before I shut the door Harold said, “We’ll pick you guys up on the other side at six.”  They drove off and I checked my watch. Eight hours of walking door to door. I was already regretting this job.

“Well, let’s get a move on!”  George cheered as we began our scam. The first three houses we knocked on were busts. Either no one answered or they shut their door as quickly as they opened it. We stepped up to the fourth house and had a little luck when a woman in her mid 30s answered and kept the door open long enough for us to say hello. She had a black eye and a bruised lip, with a few marks on her neck. I kept my head down as George just pretended not to notice.

“Hello, ma’am. I was wondering if I might be able to come inside and do a little demonstration of this wonderful set of Slicers, Inc. knives.”  She hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside and let us in. I couldn’t believe George was that desperate for a sale.

He walked in and I reluctantly followed, nodding briefly to the battered woman as I passed by. George made his way to the kitchen and opened his case of assorted knives. The woman eyed them like they were candy. He stuck out his hand, “I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m George and this is my partner, Logan.”  

She gently caressed his hand, “Margaret.”

“Well, Margaret, I’ve taken a look around this kitchen and I don’t see any knives anywhere.”  

“They’re in the drawer over there.”  She pointed behind me. I opened the drawer and handed the sorry excuse for a knife to George.

“Oh, this is all wrong.”  He said, analyzing it.

“Look, This knife’s so dull it won’t even cut me.”  He said, and then he attempted to slice his arm up with it. It didn’t even break the skin. I wasn’t sure if that was some sort of trick or if the knife was really that dull.

“I know.”  She sighed, leaning on the counter. I watched as she ogled over the knives that George took out and placed on the table.

“Now, these knives are very special,” He began, “Do you know how they make knives Margaret?”  

“No.”  She was in a zombie-like trance.

“Well, what they do is heat them up, then cool them rapidly, and repeat the process as they sharpen the edge to a fine point to slice things with. But these knives are specially made. They’re heated and cooled to the maximum degrees science can create, which in turn makes the points that much sharper. Here, let me show you.”  He pulled a tomato out of the suitcase.

“Here’s your knife cutting this tomato.”  He took the knife and tried cutting the tomato, but it ended up just squirting tomato juice and smashing it together. “Now, here’s one of ours.”  He grabbed the smallest knife and applied barely any pressure. It sliced through the tomato like it was butter. “Did you see how unbelievably easy that was?”  

She nodded, “How does it work against bones?”  Margaret was beginning to frighten me.

“I’m very glad you asked that.”  For a salesman, George was terrible at reading people. “I bet you cook a lot of steaks, huh Margaret?”  George pulled a T-bone steak out of it’s packaging and slapped it on the counter. “Just watch how simple this is.”  He laid the knife on top of a bone, and pressed down. It cut the bone clean in half.

“I’ll take it.”  Margaret said, grabbing her purse, “How much?”  

“Well, the whole set’s 300.”  He said, smiling his goofy ass smile. She wrote him a check and they traded. “Enjoy your new set, Margaret.”  He said.

“I will. Thank you so much.”  She ran up and hugged him. He embraced her, and I could tell only two possible thoughts could be entering his head, either fucked up or stupid. I rolled my eyes as I went outside to smoke and wait for him. He followed shortly after, “And that’s why I love this job.”  

“I’m sure.” I said, lighting up.

“Hey, can I have one of those?”  He asked, “Feel like I could really use one right now.”  

“I’ll give you one later. Let’s go, we’re burning daylight.” I couldn’t wait to go home, but not before I made sure to sabotage any chance of this douche bag getting another sale. We went on for the rest of the day as I made some beginner fuckups. One woman we almost sold to I made sure my scarred hand was visible throughout the entire session, and when I could tell he was about to close, I jumped in to improv a slicing move, purposefully adding another scar.

By the end of the day we hated each other, and met Harold as he picked us up and drove us back through the neighborhood. “So, how was your first day, Logan?”  

“I made a few mistakes, but we did sell one set.”  

“Well that’s not too bad.” He said, “Which house?”  It wasn’t hard to spot, because there were a few police cars and an ambulance sitting outside of it.

“That one.” I said. We drove slowly by it.

“Jesus, I wonder what happened?”  

“Yeah, but at least we got the sale before it happened right?”  I said, sarcastically, then I tapped George on the shoulder, he turned around, “Here’s that cigarette you wanted.”  I said, handing it to him. I arrived home exhausted from the endless walking. When I got on the elevator there was a flyer taped to it with a picture of a nine year old Dalmatian on it. Below it read:  

NEED SOMEONE TO WATCH DOG WHILE ON VACATION. IF INTERESTED STOP BY APARTMENT 304.

I took the flyer with me into my apartment and left it on the counter. I turned on the TV and surfed channels until I stumbled across some soft-core porn. Some people don’t like it if there’s no visible penetration, but since I don’t like the look of a vagina, soft-core was good enough for me. It was called The Witches of Breastwick, and was in the middle of what I assumed was one of the witches fucking someone who may or may not be her specimen.

The cloudy images made her breasts look that much more perky as I started stroking my member. The man took her and bent her over the bed, and she grabbed the sheets firmly and moaned. It was getting a little rougher than I expected, which was good news for me.

I started to imagine that I was the one on top of her as I held her down and had my way with her. She moaned my name, begging me to go harder, and faster. I granted her wish and put her hands behind her back, while pinching and pulling on her nipples.

Then I came, and was reminded of why I hated to jerk off outside the shower. Come got all over my lap, my jeans, and a little on the couch and carpet. I got up angrily and grabbed a towel, cleaning myself of the entire sticky residue before getting the stains off the couch. When I was done I sat there with my hand on my forehead, rubbing it.

I don’t have anything better to do than jerk off, I thought. I watched the sorry excuse for a plot unfold as the witch turned the man into a frog or something, and then a soft transition to her bringing it to her fellow witches, and the three of them started to get a little lovey dovey.

They caressed and licked each other’s nipples, and then another man from seemingly out of nowhere came on to take part in the ritual. I watched it for a few minutes more before I started to get hard again. I wrapped the towel around the base of my dick, and went on to round two.

Next Chapter

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