Killing Customers

The handcuffs were so goddamn tight on his wrists - "It hurts." The cops laughed.

And the spectacle unfolded. In the box office, three cops, Gordon in handcuffs, a customer dead on the floor just outside the ticket window. A copious amount of blood pooled around the victim's head. Most likely from the gaping wound the bullet made as it passed through his skull.

The rest of the customers had been herded outside; the front doors were locked. Temporarily; after all, the show must go on. Management felt confident they could still pull this off and put on a show - and avoid massive refunds. Once again greed trumps empathy.

Volunteers were outside passing out drink tickets. Some customers were shocked and disgusted; others grabbed tickets for their wives who didn't drink.

The dead customer got what he deserved. What a low-life loser. Treating Gordon like a servant, infuriating him with heaping helpings of condescension. Scumbag.

He'd been here before. Many times. Staring down rude customers with a smile and murder in his eyes. They often did not know what to think. There was a hint of believability in those eyes, enough so that many times customers walked away jittery.

Chalk another one up for Gordon.

He'd fantasized often about killing customers. Seemed like fine sport. But of course he never brought the dream to fruition. I mean, it was a bit risky.

But tonight was different. Gordon was fed up - what a stupid fucking job. Processing credit card and cash transactions, printing tickets, handing them out, answering stupid and repetitive questions, acting pleasant with acid in his heart, handling exchanges for indecisive morons who feel a sudden urge to sit in different seats.............and on and on and on.

Contrary to the dribble championed by management and  obedient servants - I mean employees - Gordon felt that patrons represented the dregs of society.

So he killed one. It was as simple as that. With Wild Turkey 101 running through his veins, strengthening his resolve.

The customer started right off with the rudeness and escalated from there. Gordon fought back with words until words were not enough. This was a particularly stupid customer. When he demanded a refund Gordon said "You want a refund? (reaching for his gun), I got your fucking refund right here."

And put a bullet into his forehead.

Gordon waited calmly for the cops to show up.

Later, as his co-workers sat in a bar discussing the weirdness of Gordon's calm demeanor, one finally spoke up and said "You know, I'm thinking even life in prison might be better than selling tickets in a box office."

After a moment's hesitation and reflection, the rest of the crew raised their shot glasses, shouted in unison "I'll drink to that", downed the whiskey and ordered another round.