I quit my job today at the Waffle House. I know that I can find a job at Bob Evans 'cause the manager there used to work here and he told me so. I'm tired of the long nights and having to put Evan at Uncle Mary's house all night. This way I can have him home with me at night and I think we can all sleep better.
here's the real reason I'm quitting. Tonight at about 3 am this guy comes into the House. He looks about 85 pounds soaking wet and he's got one of them green metal canisters with oxygen in it. The kind on wheels with the long tube on it that goes up your nose. He sets down at one of my tables and orders some coffee and homefries. I tried not to stare but he looks like something from a bad horror movie. Had them deep set eyes and the bones on his arms stuck out real bad. Looked like death, mostly. When he left he left a fifty dollar tip and this spooky note:
My name is Bradley. I am 24. I am dying of lung cancer, pretty soon. I ain't got Aids or nothing like that. I ain't had sex in 6 years and I'm gonna die soon. I am staying at the Days Inn up the road here. If you want 300 dollars I will pay you. You are a beautiful woman and I would love to be with you before I die. I am serious.
Well, diary, that about did it for me. I put the fifty in my apron, clocked out and left right then. I drove to the house and just hugged on myself the whole way. I don't want to ever go back in that place as long as I live. It's haunted now, sure as any cemetery.
Life is pretty scary sometimes, ain't it?