Just Another Joe: Simply Entertainment Collection [SEC], #7
By E Darkwood
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About this ebook
Every life is different.
Every life has meaning.
The world is full. Full of laugher, full of life, full of anger and full of spite. What keeps those things from mixing together? What keeps it all from spiraling into oblivion?
Joe is your average guy. He goes to school, he goes to work and he paddles through that confusing sea called life; every stroke a lesson. Some moves are easy, some are hard, and some are a miracle. But if there's one thing that Joe has learned it's that **the important thing** is to keep his eyes open and make the most of the ride.
But some strokes bring unprecedented questions.
What makes Joe, Joe?
What makes someone special? Is it having super powers? Is it saving the world once for everyone? Or multiple times for only someone?
Or could it maybe be something like just being a good friend?
Who decides what is special? God?
This is the story of an ordinary guy who is nothing special but still tries. In life. In love. In, just being Joe.
Read more from E Darkwood
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Book preview
Just Another Joe - E Darkwood
Chapter 1
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"Now isn't that a miracle." I say to myself as I watch the littlest boy gets what's probably his first treat all on his own from the nearby vending machine.
Way to go!
I cheer towards the tot before I turn back to the man who's helping me.
You'll get your notice by mail.
He replies morosely as he takes a large stamper and presses it to my file.
But don't hold your breath.
He adds.
"If it's gonna happen." I reply to him with a smile as he finishes up the registration process.
He looks up at me blankly before he turns back to close my folder and then places it on top of a large stack.
Next!
Shouts 'Shawn' as he waves me away.
Have a nice day, Shawn.
I reply, giving it one last try on whether his name tag is accurate or not before I leave.
Papers.
I hear him say to the newest person to stand in front of his window.
I shake my head and give a small smile, then I start going towards the exit.
I hope it goes through. I think as I reach the outside and squint into the sunny day.
It'll really make a difference, but, not up to me.
I give a shrug before I start to walk towards the nearest subway station. Whistling away as I do so.
"Uhp, excuse me."
////*\\\
Watch it.
I say to the air headed guy before I brush past him.
I continue walking down the street keeping track of the passing numbers.
21, 23, 25, 27! There it is, 27B.
I pull my shoulders back, and pass a hand through my hair as I walk up to the building. Then I take one last deep breath and I step up to the door to push down on the ringer.
Right away I hear a dog start barking, but before the sound gets too close the door opens and a grandma looking lady pops out.
Yes?
She asks when her eyes land on me.
Hi, I'm Bar Tomson, here about the job?
"Oh, yes, yes, do come in." She replies as she pulls the door all the way open and motions me in.
Bar, that's an unusual name.
She chitchats after she closes the door and starts to lead the way further in.
I swallow back my knee-jerk reaction and instead keep a neutral face on.
It is. I tried to do research on the shop, but I couldn't find much, has it been open for long?
She giggles as she covers her mouth with her hand.
Splattered paint, it's like she's right out'ta the 20's or something...
Where did people in the 20's land on squiggles?...
"Oh goodness, yes! My father first opened our doors back in 1932 and we haven't stopped since." She answers as she walks us through a hallway.
We rely on our close community for business, so it's not so fantastic you wouldn't have found much on us from anyone who isn't local.
She turns to me.
"How did you hear about the opening, dear?"
She grates my teeth with her 'dear' but I plow through. 20's; so far, not 'fantastic'.
A friend of mine saw the sign and gave me the number.
I answer as we enter into an office space.
Do sit down, would you care for some refreshment?
She asks as she waves a hand to one of the chairs in front of a large wooden desk.
I try my best not to gape at the flowery room or the coffin sized desk, so instead I focus on the calories on offer.
I'd take a baja burst if you have one.
She immediately makes a face. Crappy canvas.
Ohhh, you youngins and your sweet carbonated drinks!
She scolds
saying it more like she thinks, it's funny.
"But, you know, my granddaughter likes that very one; I think I might just still have some. Won't be a tick!" She announces as she turns and leaves me in the weird room.
The moment she's gone, I let out a long breath and I slump back in my chair.
You can do this Bar, you can do this. I remind myself.
What is that?! I shout when my eyes land on a giant cartoon-cake-mascot-thing standing all creepy in the corner.
The art side of me wants to go over and touch it; figure out it's make. But the horror movie watcher side of me is yelling at me not to answer the phone when it rings any, minute, now. Where's some courage and heart when you need it?
Here you are!
I grip my hands to the seat, and bite the insides of my cheeks to keep the scream in.
"Turns out there was still some around." She says with a wink.
Is something the matter?
She asks as she holds out a glass towards me; the deer in the headlights.
I force a less scared-out'a-my-pants face on as I reach to take the glass from her.
No, everything's fine. Thank you.
She looks a little like she doubts it, but she eventually keeps on walking and takes a seat behind the jumbo desk. I inwardly do my best to shake it off; slamming down the liquid life helps.
"If it's alright with you, shall we get