Bad Day by Mikael Covey

based on a true story in a small Nebraska town

Paco goes out to get the mail. Comes back with the usual advertising junk, and a letter. Flings it at me. “Open it up” he says. I see it’s from the company and we all know what that means. Sitting around the little room in the shabby old house, me and Reuben and Paco. I rip open one side and unfold the letter. Paco drops down into the ratty old armchair. Knocks over a half-empty beer can from last night, looks over at Reuben. “Clean this shit up, Homes!” Like he’d meant to do it, just to make a point.

“So…what’s it say?” like I’m the one to blame. “You know what it says, they fired your ass.” Paco’s a mean tough son of a bitch. The only way to handle a guy like that is to give it right back to him, otherwise he gots no respect for you. “Fuck me” he yells, jumping up from his chair “those motherfuckers, assholes. I’ll show those sons a bitches.” Kicks a pair of work boots across the room.

Me and Reuben just watch. I mean, what do you expect? Like you never show up for work, and they’re just gonna let you slide. Like, hey come on in whenever you feel like, no problem. Bullshit, everybody knows that. “Shitty job anyway” I tell him. “Fuck you!” he yells, right up in my face, fists clenched like he’s gonna crack me one. Then, “Yeah…

you’re right. Who needs that shit? Fuck it.”

But just makes it worse on me and Reuben. Bad enough to go out into the cold dreary, and work at the packing plant. Now that they fired Paco, gonna end up supporting him too. I mean, it’s just so hard to face that place day after day, blood and guts everywhere, miserable work, rotten conditions, so goddamned cold in there too.

But to have somebody living with you who doesn’t have to do that anymore, makes it that much harder on us. “What’re we gonna do now?” asks Reuben. Fat brown body slouched into the sagging couch which is also his bed in the little rental house. So bleak outside, barely noon, and now little wisps of snow starting to blow around.

“We gotta get outta here” says Paco. “Man, this aint no life. Oughtta head out to California where it’s warm sunny nice.” “Yeah” says Reuben “find us some hot girls to keep us warm.” “Hell yeah” I say “why not?” Nothing holding us here. I mean, they’re gonna shut down the plant anyway, one of these days. What’s the use sticking around for that.

Anybody who could, had already packed up, moved on. All the hot girls, and people who had some stash saved up. Just the poor remnants left, like me and Reuben and Paco. We can’t even get far enough ahead to keep up with rent and utilities. Fuck that shit, let’s just leave it and get the hell outta here. Make a new start. Man, like a breath of fresh air in all this filth.

I get up and go into the little kitchen, get some plastic bags to pack up my clothes and stuff. Paco pushes past me, grabs a couple of beers from the fridge. Goes back and drops down into his chair. Not good. Once he starts drinking, it’s gonna get rough from here on out.

Likely get roaring drunk, go off about something, start yelling, wanna beat the crap outta somebody. Been through that often enough to be sick of it. But what can you do. Rough neighborhood, better to have somebody like Paco on your side than not. Walk past him and stop, like maybe he’ll get the message. He’s got that mean scowl on his face. “What?” I ask him.

“I’m tire of living like shit. Fucking garbage everywhere. What good is it?” “Hey, it’s gonna get better. Gonna be better out west. We’ll get jobs, save up a stash. Go back to Mexico, back home for awhile. Be great; you’ll see.” “Fuck Mexico” he says, like he’s spitting the words out, or spitting on the words “Fuck America. Fuck everybody.”

Looks up at me, all worn out. Tired of fighting and running and starting over. Tired of all of it. “Who the hell ever gave us anything? Except shit. The same old shit all the time every fucking place we go. What’s the difference?” “So what” I ask him. “What’re we gonna do? What can we do? Huh?”

“When I leave this fucking town” he says “this shithole, I’m gonna take something with me. Gonna take what they owe me.” “Yeah, like what?” He looks at me and Reuben, and then around the crappy little house. “Fuck this shit, fucking worthless junk. Just leave it. Let’s get some stash right now. Then get the hell outta here.”

“Like what” I ask again. He reaches over and grabs an old stained-up pay stub from the table. Looks at it, all the hours worked and all the deductions taken out. Work clothes, safety equipment, pay advances to get you started, on and on. Just shakes his head. “The bank, where we cash our shitty little paychecks. And they look at us like we’re so much trash. Little insects that do all their hard work for them. All they do is sit around, count their money. They got enough…enough for everybody.”

“So, you wanna rob the bank, or what” I ask, like what the hell. I’m all pumped up about gettin the fuck outta here. And he’s got some crazy idea that’s gonna screw up everything. “No” he says, looking at me with his hard eyes. “I don’t wanna rob no fucking bank. But that’s what I’m gonna do. ‘Cause I aint gonna live like this anymore. What’s the point?”

I look over at Reuben. He’s got that shocked worried look on his face, like Paco’s got this insane idea in his head, and once he’s set on something there’s nothing you can do to stop him. Paco gets his coat, goes on out to the car. Me and Reuben follow him for no good reason. But it’s his old beat up car, and if we’re gonna leave, that’s all we got.

Starts it up and drives through the dreary little town that’d been our home for the past few months. Some good days and most of them not. Turns up the street that leads out to the highway. I’m thinking maybe it’s gonna be okay, gonna be gone without any problems. Take a deep breath and start to relax, light up a smoke. Then off to the left is this little modern brick building, a branch of the Farmers and Merchants fucking Bank.

Paco eyes the bank without a word, and pulls into the lot. Parks in the back where the employees park their cars. Gets out and shuts the dented-up door that doesn’t even close right. “Come on” he says. “No way, man” says Reuben “I aint going in there. Man, think about it.”

“Shit, chill out, man. I’m just gonna cash a check I been holding back. Get us some gas money.” I know he’s lying but what can you do. Never seen him so totally calm relaxed, like he’s walking up to the gallows or something. Maybe if we go with him, he’ll wise up. Laugh it off and leave, then it’ll be over with.

Nobody in the bank, just a couple of girls behind the counter. Maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t know. Paco goes up to the window, hands the girl a check that somebody’d given him. It’s for ten bucks but he’d written over it to make it read a hundred. She looks at it, unsure of what to do, holding the filthy old crumpled-up check in her clean white hands. Looking across at the dirty raggedy man in front of her.

“I can’t cash this” she says, reaching the check out to hand back to him. “Please” he says, in a strangely serene voice, like a religious pilgrim asking for a piece of bread. “I’m sorry” says the girl, shaking her head “I can’t.” “Please” he says again, in the same voice.

The girl seems to sense that the raggedy-looking man isn’t going to go away. Then the other woman, who’s older and wears glasses comes over and looks at the check.

Kinda shrugs her shoulders, shakes her head. “It’s no good” she tells Paco. And like he doesn’t understand her, raises her voice. “Not good” shaking her head, holding the check up to show him. All of sudden it hits me all at once, a moment in time when everything you’ve ever done before and everything that comes after is going to be decided in this one moment. My knees buckle, the blood leaving my face. Frozen there watching.

“Please” says Paco “a hundred dollars. That’s all we want, that’s all.” The younger girl’s starting to get scared but the older woman doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s no good” she says loudly “no good check.” Paco reaches in his pocket, takes out a shiny nickel-plated .38. Holds it gently like it was his wallet or something, not like a gun at all. Not even pointing it at the two women, just to make them understand is all.

Reuben calls out “Paco” like he’s pleading with him. He turns to look. But this guy in a suit comes out from his office. Paco turns back and the gun fires into the man’s chest.

So loud and surreal like someone slammed a door, or a car backfired on the street. You wish it was that. But it wasn’t, and the man in the suit crumples and falls to the carpet with barely a sound.

The younger woman puts her hands on the sides of her face, looking at the man in the suit lying there on the floor. Repeating “oh, oh, oh” over and over again in a rapid voice, hyperventilating, can’t breathe, can’t understand why this happened. Paco points the gun at her, asks her to be quiet. Looks at the older woman.

“Don’t” she says “please don’t.” “Put all the money…into a bag” he tells her, like that’s the only thing he could think of to say. The woman scoops up the money from the cash drawers and then some from a metal drawer below. Looks around, throws it all into the plastic liner in the little trash can and hands the plastic bag over the counter.

Hands shaking so badly she can hardly hold the bag, like a cheerleader shaking a pom pom. Paco takes it from her, looks at her face. “Please…don’t tell anyone” he says. “I won’t” says the woman, so faintly you can barely hear the words.

The three of us leave the building quickly, head for the junky old car. Reuben stops when we get there. “I aint gettin in” he says, starts backing away. Paco aims the gun at Rueben’s head. “Get in, or I’ll kill you right here.” So Reuben gets in the back seat, Paco gets in beside, holding the gun on him. I get in the front and drive away.

Mikael Covey is editor of Lit Up Magazine (http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com). His writing has appeared in a number of online and print journals including Storyglossia, 3AM Magazine, Laura Hird Showcase, Outsider Writers, Word Riot, Dogmatika, and others http://stokeycat.blogspot.com).