Midnight crash, Tara zlick [best ereader for manga txt] 📗

1
I’ve never been very good at getting up early on Saturday mornings. I’m usually wasted
after frying my brain all week at school and Dad never stirs unless he’s working, so
there’s not much incentive. I used to drag myself up, get a bowl of cereal and hop back
into bed, watch music videos and then go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Those
awesome mornings have long gone.
I wish I hadn’t taken them for granted, cause who knows if I’ll ever get to sleep in
again? Things have changed. I have to get up for work now, and since I walked to work I
had to leave way too early. That didn’t mean I get up when I should though. I always
leave it as late as possible. So, on the weekend that my life took a serious plunge down
the toilet, I woke up at nine after forgetting to set my alarm, leaving me only half an hour
to get ready.
Unlike what I was about to go through, this was something I could handle easily.
First, I made sure I had the fastest shower possible. That’s difficult. I love long, hot
showers, washing my blonde hair slowly and rhythmically, just letting the steam clear my
head and the soap wash all over me. It’s probably the most peaceful part of the day.
Then, standing at the kitchen counter, I ate my cereal as fast as I could. I rarely eat
anything else. That’s probably why I’m as skinny as my dad. Sometimes I have a glass of
orange drink (not orange juice, it’s way too expensive), but most of the time I just wolf
down the cereal and slurp the milk from the bowl.
I quickly stuck on the same clothes I’d had on the night before. I’ve got pretty
simple tastes – jeans, white T-shirt, suede ankle boots. I wear the same thing almost every
weekend. Half the time the T-shirt has fallen off the chair in my room and is all creased,
but that’s OK. Customers never seem to notice.
I never wear much make-up, so that’s not a big problem either. I put on some
foundation to cover a few annoying zits and some eye shadow, but I kept it to a
minimum.
....

My hair is not even shoulder length and is dead straight, so I put it in a hair band
and a couple of clips and was ready to go.

This took less than half an hour. Walking to work took longer. But at least I’d be on
time. In fact, I’d probably be there before Crass and I’d have to wait until he turned up
fifteen minutes late looking like a human hangover.

I like walking to work when the weather’s nice. Not too hot, not too windy, and
definitely no rain. If it rained, I had to wake Dad up, and getting Dad up nowadays was
not an easy job.

I walked through Jubilee Park. Only a couple of people walking their dogs and me.
The dogs were all excited, straining at their leashes or running maniacally after tennis
balls. Dogs are always so happy. Every time I see a dog I wonder why I don’t have one.
In fact we don’t have any pets at all. They’ve all gone and died, including a couple of
cats, a goldfish and a white rabbit called Snow that Mum and Dad bought me for my
ninth birthday that lasted about two weeks before it escaped and feasted on snail bait next
door. Dad found it stiff as cardboard in the neighbour’s rose garden. We buried Snow in
the backyard and even now I don’t like stepping on her grave near the lemon tree.
Somehow I think it’s bad luck.

I couldn’t handle a pet, anyway. Who’d feed it? Who’d walk it? I do enough. But
it’d be nice to have some company on a weeknight when I’m alone in the house.
Although that’s not so common anymore. Usually Dad’s home, watching TV or swearing
at the buzzing fridge that has been threatening to blow up for, like, the last two years.

I could hear kids playing cricket somewhere behind the bowls club as I made my
way towards Main Street. Saturday is the big shopping day around here and the Rising
Sun bakery was pretty full when I walked pass it. Men with the newspaper stuck under
their arms were buying coffee and pastries and women loaded loaves of bread into the
storage compartment of prams. One mum was trying to coax her son into shutting up by
offering him a gingerbread man, but it didn’t work. He went on crying and she came out
the door with an exasperated look in her eyes. I heard her say, ‘You can’t have a meringue worm this early in the morning Damien!’ and he shouted back, ‘I want a worm!
I want a worm!’

I wondered what my Mum did when I was a snotty brat? She wouldn’t have put up
with it. Primary school teachers are experts at getting kids to behave. I wouldn’t have got
a gingerbread man as a bribe, that’s for sure.

My boots were beginning to hurt by the time I reached the store. They’re not great
to walk up hill in. I reminded myself to charge my MP3 player so I could listen to some
music after work for the walk home tomorrow. I finished early Sunday mornings and Dad
had stopped picking me up once Daylight Savings had started. I like the peacefulness of
the early morning, but I liked listening to music to unwind at the end of the shift.

The door to the store was opened when I reached it. Right on ten o’clock. Crass
was on time for once.

‘Oh well’, I said to myself as I walked in, ‘another day, another dollar.’ That’s an
expression I read in a book somewhere that stuck with me. It’s like the motto of the
casual student worker who does the stuff nobody else wants to for half the pay. I guess
there’s worse ways to spend a Saturday morning.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

2

..................................
pretty much started wishing I was back in bed as soon as Robert Keppler walked into
the store. Anything would be better than having to put up with Robert Keppler. He’s a
seriously weird guy.
I’d had my suspicions when I first met him three months ago. The fifteen minutes
he’d just spent taking me scene-by-gruesome-scene through a horror movie called Night
Falls confirmed it.
He is really, really strange.
I still don’t know why he felt the need to tell me everything about a dopey horror
that I have absolutely no interest in at all. I’d rather talk about Mexican Walking Fish,
and they totally creep me out. I felt like telling Robert to go and tell someone who cares.
But I didn’t. For some reason I just let him keep talking.
‘Night Falls was kinda lame in parts, but generally awesome,’ Robert said, his
tongue flicking between his teeth and his eyes bulging like ice cream tubs. ‘It’s about this
old woman, right? Her name’s Matilda. She lives way back in the 1800s in a town named
Night Falls. Pretty stupid name for a town, hey? But it is a horror movie, you know?’
I tried to smile while at the same time scan in a pile of DVDs. He didn’t seem to get
the hint that I wanted him to go…away…immediately.
‘So this old woman used to pay the local kids for teeth they'd lost, sort of like the
tooth fairy, yeah? But then these two kids mysteriously disappear, and the locals freak out
and they think she’s murdered the kids, so they hang her, right?’
As you do.
‘Sounds pretty freaky,’ I said, my eyes still on the DVDs I was returning.
I could smell his body sweat from the other side of the counter. It was a bitter, sour
aroma, like the smell of my dad’s work jumpers in summer. When I wash Dad’s work
clothes I feel the sweat cling to me for the rest of the day until the following morning’s
shower. Gross.
....

Robert’s heavy, knee length black coat clung to him tight, like cling film. It was
about two sizes too small. And what was with that coat anyway? It was almost summer
and I was only wearing a T-shirt.

Everything Robert wore was, in fact, black. His tight jeans with the frayed seams,
his faded Korn T-shirt and the scuffed Doc Martens with the flapping sole. The worst was
his beard, a scraggly thing that didn’t seem to know how to grow properly. Patches of it
covered up rashes and pimples on his blotchy face. At least he wasn’t wearing his hair
out this time. It was tied back in a pony tail. If he let it loose, wisps of hair would plaster
themselves to his forehead and neck like bits of loose cotton from his T-shirt.

‘Pretty freaky?’ he said, ‘Hell yeah! She’s standing in this kid’s room! Wouldn’t
you freak if you pulled back your sheets and saw her standing by your bed?’

I looked at him and thought I wouldn’t freak as much I was freaking out right now.
He eventually left. As usual he didn’t say thanks or bye, he just suddenly turned and left
mid-sentence, mumbling to himself. He talks, but he never talks to you. He never looks
you in the eye. It’s weird. He definitely has social problems.

Crass laughed from where he was standing in the comedy aisle. I’m glad he found
it funny. Robert gives me the creeps. I mean, I’m a fifteen-year-old girl. Horror movies
scare me. Grown men who are obsessed with horror movies scare me even more.

I picked up the DVD cover. It had two large hands pressed against a red, burning
sky, making it look as if someone was trying to escape from a stained glass bowl. There’s
no way I’d watch something like this. I’d be sticking with Ben Stiller and Drew
Barrymore. At least they made me laugh.

‘So, did ya have fun with Robert?’ Crass asked as he walked towards the counter.
‘Thanks for helping me out there,’ I replied. ‘I think he’s totally strange and you
just left me with him the entire time.’
Crass just laughed. ‘You know he’s rented almost three hundred movies over the
past year? A load of them were horror movies.’
‘Really? I didn’t even know we had that many.’


‘Yeah, I looked at his rental history on the computer. I’m telling ya Stacey, that’s
almost one every couple of friggin’ days!’

That made Robert the Video Saloon’s best customer by a mile.

Sighing, I opened the DVD cover of weirdo Rob’s movie to scan and return it.