The Honch Patonch

The smell of sweat, trash, and my fellow workers fly in a flurry out of the opening door. I take a step inside, entering my work-place: Tenco. Another day, another dollar. As I position myself behind the slider table, a gentlemen walks in with a few bags.

"I've got a lot of cans for ya' this evenin'." He told me with a smile.

"Bring em' in." I replied with a grin. As he layed out the bags of cans in front of me, my eyes widened with amazement. This man had a lot of cans.

"I hope this ain't too much." He said, still maintaining that smile he'd had from the start.

"It's nothin'." I told him.

Minutes past; ten minutes, fifteen. Soon I was finished. As I threw away my final can, a second fellow walked in. Acknowledging the other man, I realized they were friends and stepped aside to converse in private. I began calculating the correct amount of money to give for the cans we'd just received.

I can't deny the eavesdropping that followed.

"Man, what is takin' so got-damn long?" The second man didn't seem very pleased. Perhaps he was waiting on the first man; or so it'd appear.

"It's just gonna' be a minute John." The first man told 'John' to calm down; he didn't

"Maybe it's because this place is a housing for retards who can't do a fuckin' thing right. Let alone in a timely fashion." I didn't like John.

"Will you shut up!? Go back out to the car and wait for Christ's sakes!" The first man had won.

Walking back over to me, after John exited, the first man apologized.

"I'm sorry about that. My friend can be... an asshole." He said.

"I understand." Taking a saddened look at the ground, then continued with my work.
I've always had a problem where, if I feel slightly uncomfortable, my eyes water up. It's not because I'm sad, or hurt; I just get watery eyes. My eyes began to fill with what the man could only assume were tears. Despite the water, my voice remained normal.

"Here's your money sir; have a great day." I spoke, trying to repress the 'tears.' In spite of my finest efforts, he saw them. He was sorry that anything had happened; he was a good man.

At 8pm I punched out. Throwing my work jacket over my shoulder, I began my slow walk home. Usually thirty minutes is all it took to get home; this time was no different. I stepped through the screen door and into my house. I looked around.

What did I have? I had stuff: walls, carpet, objects. My house was decent and I kept it in good shape. I liked my house.

Walking into the kitchen, I felt my stomach rumble. I'd remembered the hunger that'd pained me for part of my day. Time to alleviate that. Popping open my freezer door, I yanked a T.V dinner from the pile that called the freezer home.

I stuck it into the microwave and turned it on, then went to my room.

Today, like everyday, consisted of the same torture. Degradation, even in the workplace. There are the good people, and there are the bad people. I like to think that I'm a good person.

As I ate the microwave meal in my dining room, at my table, alone, I thought back on my life. My father, a cop, caught bad men. He brought them to justice while my mom took care of me at home. Her job was to watch over me; watch me because I have 'down syndrome.' Because I'm a 'retard.'
They loved me though. I love them too. Despite their deaths, they still live on. Left in my name was their house, which I sold and bought my own. My father left his cop uniform and gear. He left me his tazer, billy-club, flashlight; he left me his gun.

I strolled out to my front yard and aimed my fathers fire-arm to the clouds.

"I'm gonna kill yo ass." I said as I unloaded into the night's sky. Many seconds passed, and I began to see neighbors scramble to their windows. They glanced outside at me and wondered what in the world I had shot.

What they didn't know is that I shot at not an Earthly creature. I shot at God.

Sixty seconds must have gone by and then I heard a roar above me. Flying down was a heavenly body; God.

"Yo son, you did not jus' shoot no bullets at my heavens." He stated in a serious tone.

"Eat it, bitch." I retorted, following up with a launching of mouth juice into his nicely chiseled face.

Then he stopped. He just stood there, staring at me. For a second I thought he noticed the drool escaping from the right side of my mouth, which I quickly wiped up, but he hadn't.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't realize." He stuttered.

"Realize what?" I asked quizzically.

"That you're retarded." He said and zipped back up to his wondrous abode laughing to his merry self. Soon I heard the entirety of heaven bellow loudly at God's 'hilarious' joke.

"God-dammit." I said.