Cayden: Stupid BaldyMature

“Stupid fucking… God damn… Oh my fucking Christ!” I shouted, halfway through stacking books with Maxxie on my mind.

Typical. The one day I need to act like an ass is the one day Brent, the manager of the humble little bookstore I work at, is off sick. So some guy with a shiny bald head’s standing in for him. Apparently his name was James and he didn’t care much for lateness, swearing or attitude.

“Caleb, watch your language, there could have been customers” he barked.

“Uh, it’s Cayden”.

“Whatever. Just stop cussing. You can do that in your break”.

“Yeah, but-”

“Caleb, don’t give me sass. I might just be standing in for Brent but I can still fire your ass faster than you can say ‘go’”.

“What?! That’s fucking bullshit!”

“Yeah? Well deal with it. And get back to work”.

And with that, baldy James stalked back into Brent’s office. Stupid fucking baldy… Who the hell was he to talk to me like that?!  Calling him every name under the sun, under my breath of course, I carried on what I was doing. Which barely took me twenty minutes. See, that was one of the reasons Brent kept me around: I work fast. I checked the list of things to do that Brent left me and got to work ordering in some new books.

By noon I couldn’t take anymore of James’ shit. His bitchy bald head appeared at least once every hour to bitch about something I was doing wrong or some shit like that. So, in a very dramatic move, I walked out of the place. This James guy might have been able to fire me but Brent’s my buddy, he’d hire me again. I hoped. My phone buzzed in my pocket as I drifted along the sunny street. I had a text. A text from someone I hadn’t seen in a long time; Pete fucking Wentz.


Hey Cay,

You’re taking me somewhere tonight


I sighed and rolled my eyes. No “Hi Cayden, fancy showing me some good bars?” or “I’m in the area and thought we should hang”. Just directions to my evening. Then again, should I have expected any less? Maxxie flashed through my mind and I felt that lazy smile creep back. There was a chance he’d never go to that bar again. There was a chance last night was the first time he’d ever been. But there was always a chance he’d be back and it couldn’t hurt to try. Within seconds I was texting Pete back.


Sure thing, I need a drink already. I know just the place”.

The End

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