Episode 1-The Working Menace

As if the day couldn’t drag on any longer for her, Rhonda waited as the young employees ran about in the Stop “in Sandwich restaurant, hoping they might ease the burden of all the customers. She really hated working there, and being the manager was no cakewalk either. Everything was always “The mayonnaise ran out!” this and “Oh God, the cash register is jammed again!” that. Above all else, she hated the way almost all her attempts at escaping work failed. In short, the place she managed could burn in Hell for all she cared. Yet she kept coming back. Every day. For fifteen years. These are the stories of her life. Try to contain your enthusiasm.

She drove steadily along the deserted highway. It was early morning. The stars had not yet fully disappeared. The sky was a beautiful blend of black, purple, and ascending reds and oranges. The car rolled noiselessly in the abysmal plane of that sunrise existence. Mist seemed to settle the vast empty lots around her car.

Suddenly, it came into view. The boiling cloud of smoke erupted from just beneath the horizon. Then she saw her destination; Stop “in Sandwich, the restaurant Rhonda managed, and it was on fire! The building was engulfed in flames. Nothing was untouched by the writhing mass of fire and smoke. The whole establishment was destroyed. Before she knew it, the fire crews were there stopping the blaze, dousing the flames. She stood with the restaurant’s owner, Mrs. Lassey Bloomington, in the morning sunlight, gawking at the sight before them.

Now just a heap of rubble, the place had condemned signs all over it. Mrs. Bloomington sat in disbelief on the hood of Rhonda’s car. The ground was way too dirty for someone of her stature in society. She always made sure to faint or sit in exasperation in the right direction.

L. Bloomington: Oh deary me, what ever shall I do now? That restaurant was the source of a good-oh Rhonda what would you guess?-five percent of my income?! Now I will have to resort to asking my husband for money when I want that new, sporty luxury yacht!

Rhonda: Yep. It’s a shame. Oh well.

L. Bloomington: I really don’t think this is the time for your usual sarcasm at the expense of me in my hour of need.