Locomotive to the Past, George Schultz [snow like ashes series txt] 📗

been—whether his landlord would be upset, at the fact, that the new boarder was not only freeloading a bountiful breakfast. But, would he really be put off—by the fact, that the young man was also wearing his son’s clothing? Apparently not! Thank you, Lord!

Still, Jason could not help but be aware of the fact—that he was on the well-known “bubble”! (Well-known—in his former epoch, anyway.) This whole, entire, arrangement—with Susan and Eric—of course, was supposed to be, strictly a room-rent-only situation. Yet, the supper—that Susan had fed Jason, the previous evening—had been, far and away, the finest, most delicious, meal he’d eaten, in literally years! Many years!

Not since his saintly Grandma Piepczyk had been, so rewardingly, operating, in her kitchen, had he tasted anything, nearly as glorious—as what he’d gorged down, at Susan’s and Eric’s table, the night before.

And now—this morning—his hostess had “whomped up” bacon, eggs, toast, and generous glass of orange juice, for him! Along with an abundance of heavenly coffee!. Well, in truth, the feast had been, so wondrously, assembled—for all three of the participants.

Our Boy had scoffled the exceptional breakfast down—with a great exuberance. For one thing, he was certain that—given his “most precarious” financial situation—he’d not be able, to eat lunch. Not at all. Probably he’d be unable to eat—anything—for, quite possibly, a whole, entire, week! Maybe even longer! He’d had no idea—not the slightest inkling—as to when he’d ever receive his initial, longed-for, highly-anticipated, paycheck! Would that ever come? Would he actually live—to see it? Hold it—in his hand?

He didn’t believe that he could possibly dare—to try and pass the ten-dollar note, which was still “safely” tucked away, in his wallet. Couldn’t pass it—anywhere! (He’d checked, and—sure enough—it was a stupid “Federal Reserve Note”. What else would it be?)

The entire “eating situation”—in any manner, of thinking—was anything, but encouraging. So—out of a feeling, of self-preservation—he’d “packed away”, as much of that, absolutely-heavenly, morning meal, as he felt he could, logically, get away with.

Then, a monumental surprise! As he was about to trail Eric, out the side door—Susan dazzled him! She handed Our Boy—a large, black, metal, lunchbox! The “lunch-pail”—also had been Jeff’s. The “bucket” had a pretty good heft to it. This was amazing! Given his former existence, the out and out generosity shown, by these people—right from the start—was simply overwhelming! Incredible!

“Here,” she’d said. “I don’t know that you’ll be able to get away… anywhere… to eat lunch. And… I’m sure that Eric won’t tell you this… but, it’d be considered improper, for you to go to lunch, with him.”

The meal she’d packed consisted of two chicken-breast sandwiches. Apparently they pair had eaten chicken, on Monday night—and this unexpected treat had been peeled off, the apparently-good-sized carcass. In addition, Our Boy spied a package of two chocolate Hostess cupcakes! Plus a Thermos! Filled with steaming coffee! And a small package of those “priceless” Krun-Chee potato chips! (Full Disclosure: The latter had, in truth, cost a nickel.)

And then—with no fanfare whatsoever—his new landlady had fetched, for him, one more thing: A heavy, woolen, jacket! Also, once the property of her son. She was worried that the light, outer, garment—in which he’d arrived, in his new era—would not be nearly warm enough. She’d been correct! Absolutely, spot-on!

This was all incredible! All of it! The whole thing! All of this! It was simply—as noted—incredible! Unbelievable! What a magnificent woman! And Eric—well, he seemed to be turning into an added blessing! An unimaginably-magnanimous pair! Unheard of!

The first day on the job went fairly well! Except that Jason could never have imagined—in the furthest reaches, of his fast-fatigued imagination—just how heavy, a hod-full of bricks could be! How heavy one was! The first-of-many loads—had begun to “eat his lunch”! Right from the start! And the laborious, never-ending, duty—had continued to do so! Especially as the day had worn on. And worn on. And worn and worn and worn on. Oh, he was able, he discovered, to carry the stupid thing! He did carry the stupid thing! Many times! But, as quitting time had (thankfully) neared, the task was becoming more and more, of a gargantuan struggle!

He’d once heard a comedian say, “I’m not a clock-watcher… I’m a whistle-listener”! He’d believed that the, suddenly-apt, line had come—from some old radio tape, that his grandfather had played, from time to time. But, as the three o’clock hour had, so laboriously, passed, Our Hero had become an ardent “whistle-listener”!

He was gratified to learn—that he would be making almost $2.50 an hour! That figured out to just about $100.00 a week. This was a little over half—of what the sainted, over-generous, Mr. Clarkson had been bestowing, upon “his unworthy ass”, in 2001. But—as near as Jason was able to figure—such a stipend, as he would currently earn—would buy him, maybe, five or six times (or seven or eight times) what the “glorious” 21st Century salary had ever allowed. Maybe even more! Probably even more! Who knew? In any case, it would be wonderful! Completely—outlandishly—rewarding! Had to be!

So, he’d dragged his butt—literally dragged it, after five or six hours—as far (and as fast) as he could! As best he could! He, obviously, had never been so glad to hear a quitting whistle! (Any quitting whistle!) Never—in his entire life!

Lunch, of course, had been wonderful. Easily the highlight of the day. for him. (What else would’ve been—could’ve been—close?) When the young man had first looked into his newly-issued lunchbox, he had realized, once again, how Susan had been so overly generous—laying all that food (and all those nifty treats) on him!

And it had been a good thing! A wonderful thing! When the mid-day whistle had blown, Jason had seldom been quite so hungry! In his entire life. Funny, those glorious potato chips had tasted even more delicious, on the job—than had been the case, the day before. He’d scoffled them down—prior to attacking the cupcakes. The newest employee had, of course, heard of Hostess cupcakes before. He’d probably seen them. Was pretty