Moratorium

     Who are these two classy chaps?  Well dear reader, these are my two best peeps, my main men, and the most common characters in my stories to come: Reilly and Caitlin.  (Please don't be offended by these drawings my darlings, I'm trying to bang them out like a public masturbater, so I can't spend forever on them.)

      I have to work quickly now, because I am no longer an unemployed, food wasting lout.  Last week, I decided to return to Michaels Crafts, my workplace of three years in high school.  I've said it before, it is hard to escape Michaels's glittery clutches.  Even though I vowed never to return, to find a more fulfilling, or at least outdoor job, the allure of the familiar got me in the end.  It has been a hard year and I am secretly lazy as hell.  I don't want to learn new skills; it's the summer, learning's for chumps when the weather gets warm.  Anyway, I am a craft stallion.  I know my shit.  Plus I was able to cut a deal with my boss and she gave me the time off I wanted.

     Hell bent on an epic change of scenery and a dire need of a steady cash flow, I applied at our local plant store.  Mmmmmm yes, Master Yoda, only ten minutes walk from my house, it is.  After stringing me on for over a month, I finally got my interview.  I was already in an unsettling state of moratorium, trying to suss out if Michaels would be the best option.  For those of you non-psyc kids, moratorium is a state of mind in between decisions, where the sufferer is pulled in different directions by different choices and needs to make a commitment.  It is genuinely stressful.
     Despite my apprehension, I was perky, well dressed, and had set the Cari-charm to stun.  It was going so well, until my interviewer put me on a cash register.  I had done cash thrice tops at Michaels, and it was like watching a bird fly into a window and proceed to be ripped apart by a feral cat while still alive and making heart breaking screeching sounds.  I just don't do well with technology.  It had touch screens god damn it!  How am I supposed to provide excellent customer service, identify plant species, do basic math, and key in codes when I can hardly use a normal computer?  I think it was apparent to all that I am not meant to be a cash monkey.

     You know what they say, the devil you know is always better than the devil you don't.