| Pixie Stix |
[21 Oct 2006|07:00am] |
"What is love? Oh baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more..."
The radio in the back of the 76 Station's convenience store crackled, the sound of forgotten 90's dance tunes blaring. Byron, with his head rhythmically bopping to the side as he methodically swept the floor to the empty shop, worked his way down each small aisle, the long chain from his wallet clinking as he went.
Byron wasn't really a fan of that old school dance music twenty years since past its prime, but the only radio station with clear reception out in these parts provided the werewolf with such a pathetic soundtrack that he considered infiltrating the sound system and rewiring it to play tunes off his iPod.
But the late shift provided as little entertainment as there could be expected from a dusty old mining town, and as much as he hated to admit it, the horrible songs on the radio provided a chuckle every now and then as tunes Byron forgot even existed, Mmm'Bop inclusive, played every now and then amidst the monotony of the long and stretched out night.
Byron wasn’t the only night owl suffering from a case of boredom. The Searchlight Nugget shut its grill down an hour or so previous, and after a good cleaning, gratefully unleashed its employees upon the quiet town. Rhonda, the ever-promiscuous, frizzy-headed waitress went out whooping and hollering with a cattle rancher named Silas. Verlie bitched and moaned about the corns on her feet. And Hannah went out saying a little prayer to any god that needed its ego stroked.
“Thank youuuuuuu, lord!”
Another week gone by, another paycheck in her hand. The best part? She had tomorrow off.
The blonde wadded up her apron and tucked it under the Gremlin’s glove compartment, amidst a hodgepodge of 8-tracks with the ribbon spun out, fast food receipts, and empty candy wrappers. If there was one thing Hannah needed in life (other than Bingo and reruns of Cops), it was a sugar rush.
Since she couldn’t face the night without it, she headed for the only place still open-- the 76. The powder blue car bumped and scraped into the parking lot before pulling alongside the door. She shouldered through it and headed straight for Ground Zero... The candy aisle.
Byron heard the car even before it came onto the lot. Keen hearing alert, his ears perked up when the sound of the car's engine rumbled through the din of En Vogue. Head perked up slightly, he stood on his tiptoes to peer over the boxes of microwave popcorn on the top of the shelf in front of him to see a light blue Gremlin pulling up.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be some passer-through needing to use the can.
The handle of the broom in his palm was gripped and the werewolf continued to sweep at the floor, though not putting much effort into it knowing soon enough he would be interrupted.
As expected, the chime went off, and in through the door came a frenzy of blonde hair making a straight beeline to the candy aisle. What on earth was it with chicks and the mad dash to the candy at weird hours of the morning? Was it a hormonal thing? Byron wasn't exactly sure, but he recognized the girl this time. He'd met her at the fourth of July thing, albeit briefly.
Byron was in the opposite corner of the small store, but he picked up his broom and walked quietly over to where the girl was raiding the shelves of everything considered delicious. "Hey," he greeted her with a wave, "Hannah, right?"
( She Needs a Sugar Fix )
( So What's Up w/ Halloween? )
( Oh My Gawd )
The locals were crazy, he decided finally.
This town ruled.
|
|