#6: Jack “Slim” Pickens

Running a bit behind this weekend, but here’s my entry for yesterday (more to come later); #6, Jack ‘Slim’ Pickens! He’s from the same world as previous entries Rusty Palmer and Linda McKibben, so read up kids!

Franklin Row is the kind of city that you come to die in.

There ain’t no promotions here, there ain’t no money, no tree lined streets, and there sure as shit ain’t no future. But it’s alright. Every day I walk into the Dine-o-rama with it’s broken neon lights and creaky door. They call me Slim, some sorta irony I guess considering how much god damn food I eat.

Anyhow, every day I walk in to eat and see Cindy. I ain’t got no wife, no kids, not even siblings. I wake up alone, I shower alone, I talk alone. And for a fat old fart like me, it’s likely I’ll die alone. But Cindy makes sure that I ain’t ever gonna dine alone. Every single day I walk in for my breakfast at around 8 or 9 PM (night shift’s a bitch), and Cindy is always ready for me. There’s a crap load of other regulars too, but she always makes the special effort to talk with me about… well, anything she can drudge up, really. I ain’t got much to talk about. Workin’ security for an office building ain’t much to speak of when ain’t nothin’ happens. Even if it did, I’m too old and too out of shape to chase anybody.

You’d think I’d be a miserable sack a shit, if you were gonna read my life out loud on paper, but I promise I ain’t. I guess you could say I had it tough as a kid, first with my parents up and dyin’ and then the foster care systems bein’ as bad as they were back then. I ain’t ever left the Row, and I’m too damn old to start now. I’ve accepted my role in this life, perhaps in the next things will turn out different.

A lot of that acceptance does come from Cindy, I s’ppose, being as she’s always ready with my five eggs, over easy, home fries with ketchup, OJ, coffee light and sweet, buttered corn muffin, and five strips of bacon, but patted down with a paper towel to get rid of that extra grease. It don’t take much to satisfy me, and a meal like that is a surefire way to get me ready for my day. My shift usually ends ‘bout 9 AM, but I never go to the Dine-o-Rama for dinner. They ain’t servin’ steaks and such that early in the mornin’. The owner, Ralph Parcell, says I’m such a good customer that he don’t mind bendin’ the rules for me a bit, but I don’t want to put him through no trouble.

It’s at night — well, morning for everybody else — that I wish I had somebody. Not even a lover or nothin’, just a friend. Or sister or somethin’. Somebody to shoot the shit with. For a city that ain’t had any crime in years, it’s amazing how nobody here gets along. I share the same counter at the diner with five other fellas that I known for years, but ain’t one of us have anything in common with one another ‘cept for Cindy.

It’s alright though. I know my time’s coming, and I’m looking forward to it. I ain’t gonna end it early or nothin’, so don’t get any ideas, but I look forward to what the Lord or whoever has got in store for my next go-round. Hopefully I don’t wind up back in Franklin Row. Until then though, at least I know that I got the best damn eggs on the east coast waitin’ for me fresh every morning.

Category: Drama, Scifi