Episode 3- Risky Business

It was a slow day at Larkin's, Murphy could already tell. The July heat was doing something freaky on the produce section and making it smell like the bathroom after Taco Tuesday and in a rare twist of events, Bill was reasonable today. The two of them sat in the break room, boredly staring out across the empty store into the street. Jackson, the strange new guy, was working the register. In his own words, Bill was just here "supervising" for the day. Still, Murphy thought, I think Bill does a little more supervising than he should.
Between long swigs from a bottle of root beer, Bill said, "We haven't had any customers all day. Wonder what their deal is?"
Murphy rolled his eyes, "Their deal? Their deal is that it's Sunday. Not like it was my choice to work today, either." Bill just nodded.
"Sure, sure," Bill took another drink, "not my choice either." Murphy squinted his eyes and glanced out at the register. Jackson was using a thoroughly bent fork to try to unlodge something from beneath the register that turned out to be a piece of gum. He stuck it in his mouth and started chewing very loudly and Murphy couldn't help but wonder where Dick Larkin found half of his employees. Well, then there was Bill.
When Murphy looked back over to Bill, he found him wearing his usual sly but slightly disturbed grin. Something was turning over in that messed-up head of his. "Hey Murphy," he said, "Jackson's manning the register. No one said we had to supervise all day, right? Something tells me we may have some errends to run, you know what I'm saying?"
"No, what?"
"Some business duties?"
"Um... what?"
Bill smacked his forehead and hissed, "I mean skipping work, you dufus! What else?" Murphy wasn't overly surprised at this, but he'd always pictured Bill as the supermarket suck-up, especially when Mr. Larkin was around. Even more, he wondered who in their right mind would leave Jackson alone at the register.
Murphy started, "Are you kidding? I'm surprised we haven't been fired yet for all you've done, and you still want to skip work? Are you out of your mind? I mean, if I-"
"Look, Murphy," Bill said, talking in his persuasive tone he used for sales, "something tells me that the toilets may be clogged up again very soon if you catch my drift. Something also tells me that if a certain someone is off toilet-duty... they won't have to deal with toilet... duty."
"Whatever, I'm sold," Murphy gave in. It was easier than having to listen to Bill's half-baked monologues, that was for sure.
Bill peered out from the doorway of the breakroom, making sure Jackson had heard nothing. Murphy assumed he hadn't, since he was too busy putting produce stickers all over his face.
With a certain bizarre pride that came with being superior to someone, Bill strode out to the register and said importantly, "Jackson, Murphy and I are going to run some errands. You should be alright by yourself. Just handle the register and we'll be back soon enough." Before Jackson could even make out a response, they were out the door, leaving him to his under-the-register wad of gum and produce stickers. He scratched his head and went back to his work, one sticker at a time.

. . .

There was a certain rebellious edge about being free from work, a present air of confidence and a powerful something that just said-

"Hey, Bill, you spilled your friggin' root beer!" Murphy shouted as they went down the street in Bill's gray, dented pickup truck.

Bill didn't take his eyes off the road but flicked open the glove box held together by a rubber band and some masking tape, "There's some napkins in there. Clean it up." Bill telling me what to clean up, Murphy thought, this is familiar.

Bill pulled the battered truck around the corner of Fifth and Silvers Street, coming to a stop at a 7-11. "Hey, Murph, I'm going in to get a refill. You want something?"

Murphy relaxed, putting his arms behind his head and leaning back in the seat as he said, "Yeah, sure. Get me a-"

"Too bad," Bill said shortly with a grin, "I've only got enough money for a refill." That figures. Murphy waited in the truck while Bill slammed the door and went inside, past a couple of people who looked like they belonged in a freakshow and a guy carrying 2 huge bags of groceries that concealed his face they were so tall. Bill held the door open for the guy and he walked out. That was when the man put the bags in the back of a rusty cadillac the color of dog barf and Murphy could see his face. He knew he'd seen that shade of dog barf before... but where? And then it hit him- the man had a long, chubby face with a crooked hook nose, small eyes with wrinkles around the edges, scant gray hair and a tiny pair of custom-made glasses that made him look alot like-- "Mr. Larkin," Murphy breathed incredulously. He ducked down in his seat as his boss went by and got something from the passenger side of his car. Then he came back around to the driver's side. Oh, good, Murphy thought, he's just leaving.

But of course, that wasn't the case. Dick Larkin made his slow way back up to the store, carrying with him his wallet. If he found out that Bill and I are skipping... He chose not to wonder what would happen next. Murphy looked through the store window and saw that Bill was just getting his refill by the drink counter. There was still time to do something.

In a heroic (and more than a little bit idiot) surge of adrenaline, Murphy burst out of the car carrying with him the only projectile he could reach: Bill's lucky pair of fuzzy dice from above the mirror, and dove into the asphault of the parking lot like a drunken acrobat. Just as Mr. Larkin had his hand on the door of the 7-11, Murphy hurled the dice with incredible force. They smacked him just above the ear so hard that Murphy could have sworn he heard a loud thump. For fuzzy dice, Murphy thought, that's pretty hard. Then the horrible truth hit- he was still holding the dice. He'd thrown Bill's car mirror that far instead... Whoops...

Mr. Larkin hit the ground like a sack of hammers and Murphy hurried through the doors and jumped right over him. He yelled at Bill who had just reached the front of the store, "C'mon! We've got to go!!" Bill looked puzzled until he saw the unconscious body of their boss. He looked back up at Murphy with an expression that just said, did you really? and Murphy just said, "Yeah, I had to." Of course, Bill grinned. The moment after Bill had his soda, they sprinted out like two people who'd just robbed a bank and almost backed into Mr. Larkin's dog-barf colored car on the way out. The whole way back to Bill's house, Murphy couldn't help but think over and over, he is going to give me such a crappy reference, and afterwards on a lighter note, Even I didn't know I was that good of a shot...

. . .

After hiding out at Bill's place for a few hours, watching some pretty horrible TV and keeping their eyes open for signs of a dog-barf cadillac, they returned to Larkin's Supermarket a half-hour before closing time. At the front sliding doors, Bill seemed to regain his composure as the important authority figure and marched back in to find a very bored Jackson inspecting a half-eaten snack pack.

"So," Bill started, "how was business today?"

Jackson glanced up and gave Bill a weird chocolate pudding-smeared smile as he said, "Just great. Nobody came."

Bill scratched his head, "Er... well, that wasn't the answer I was expecting, but whatever. You're free to go home, Jackson."

"Hey, wait- isn't today supposed to be payday? Do I get my-"

Bill coughed loudly to change the subject, "Well, well, look at the time. I'm sure you have some... important matters to attend to. Better get along with that. Go- scoot!" Jackson left in a hurry, eating the rest of the snack pack on the way out.

With a certain hidden interest, Bill looked back over to Murphy and said, "And as for you," oh, here it comes, Murphy groaned inside his head, "If I'm right, today is payday." Murphy was in shock. It was a cold day in hell if he ever got his paycheck from Bill.

"Um... er..." he couldn't even say anything because it was so rare.

"Yes, yes, take this home with you and don't say I never did anything for you," he handed Murphy his check in an envelope. Murphy took it almost reverently because it happened almost once in a lifetime.

He beamed as he said, "Thanks, Bill," and started for the door.

As he was almost there, Bill called after him, "Hey, Murph!" Murphy turned around and nodded, "You did me a big favor today, you know that. You are a lifesaver, and I owe you." Murphy looked over at his check, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this could become a regular thing. But before he was even outside, Bill yelled one final thing, "Oh, and by the way, do you know what happened to my rearview mirror?" Well, Murphy thought as he left Larkin's, I think that one can wait.