He took two buses to his weekend job, the only job he had, to work as a dish dog at his Aunt's restaurant. A place he hated going to, his only job. While everyone else loved Friday Afternoon, because it was the weekend that was coming up. But the weekend would be the worst for deal ol' Ross. A man once had a job in General Motors, a lower-level job, but it kept him from having to live with his family and had some spare cash to live on his own. Everything was going well for him, until one day in June, he lost his job and his car. The thing he feared the most, going back to square one, had happened. He was back to living with his parents and working only part-time at his Aunt's Restaurant, a person he would rather see less off. The second bus stop and the restaurant were a mile away from each other, which had Ross's aunt worry about him walking a mile to work in the winter weather.

Ross had walked down the road to his only place of employment, listening to his IPOD he had purchased at $150, storing loads of music and vids, something back in the day, before June arrived, that he had the spare money for at the time. While taking steps to the restaurant, whilst listening to his Death Metal music, he felt his cellphone vibrate in his coat pocket. He put the IPod on pause, to hear Disturbed's chorus of the popular song, "The Sickness." Ross pulled it out and took a look at the phone number on the panel, it was his Aunt's cell phone number.

"Oh, Jesus Christ." Ross remarked. He answered it anyway.

"Yeah?"

"Is that how you answer you're phone?" His aunt asked.

"I'm still paying for the bill." Ross said.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride? Joel said he will pick you up."

"You have asked me that already, I told you I don't want a ride. I have two feet, I can walk."

"It's pretty cold and windy outside."

'Do you think I'm that stupid? I'm outside walking in it.' Ross thought. But instead, he simply said, "I know that, I'll be there in about ten minutes." He said.

Before his aunt could say that she loved him, Ross hung up the phone. At that other end that hung up, Ross put his ear buds back on and continued to listen to his Death Metal music. After he lost is prestige in June, he also lost faith in God as well, now denying God his love. And why not? In his mind, God controls everything and he, for some reason, screwed over Ross.

Seven short Death Metal songs later, Ross had arrived at the restaurant, trying to enter through the back door, but it was locked. Ross knocked at the door, hoping someone would open it for he hated to enter through the front. But no one opened the back door.

"Hey everyone, Elvis is about to enter the building." Ross said sarcastically. He dejectedly walked around to the front and prepared for his aunt to make a large welcome, something he rather not have.

Ross entered the restaurant to see a few tables filled up with customers. There were two waitresses, his Aunt and another waitress who usually doesn't tip out Ross very well at the end of the day. His Aunt was talking to a customer as Ross began to walk towards the back of the restaurant, hoping that his aunt will not notice him.

"Hi, Ross!" Said the other waitress with a voice that annoyed him.

"Oh, hell no." Ross said in silence, his Aunt turned around and noticed him.

"ROSS!" His Aunt yelled out. Elvis had entered the building. Everyone in the restaurant knew that the owner's mentally challenged (or retarded) son had entered the building. The few customers that knew Ross well had said hello, with one asking how he was. He didn't respond to any of them and walked towards the back of the restaurant, his Aunt followed with open arms, asking for a hug and kiss, with customers looking on and laughing, wanting to see a rise from Ross.

"Ross, come and give me a hug and kiss." She asked.

"I'm Twenty-Seven years old, not six. Get you're mind out of the gutter." Ross said, walking away from the view of the dining room area of the restaurant and into the back room. His aunt was going to continue to follow him, hinting for a hug and kiss, but a customer's comment of her being denied stopped her. She looked over to that voice and said, "I know, he used to kiss and hug me when he was just a little boy."

This followed with some laughs from the customers. She walked towards Ross who was at the corner of the back room, putting on a apron.

"Too embarrassed to give you're aunt a kiss and a hug?" She asked.

Ross stopped with tying up his apron and looked at her with disgust.

"Do I really have to be the only adult in this family you treat as a child? I'm Twenty-Seven years old." Ross said.

"I treat you're Thirty-Four year old cousin like a child too. Only she isn't embarrassed to hug and kiss me." She said.

"That's probably because she isn't too happy with her life and is likely tipping you off that she wants to divorce her husband and have you take care of everything after." Ross making a suggestion.

"Ross!" His aunt replied with disgust. "I can't believe you said that. Try being nice for once. And give me a kiss."

"No, stop treating me like I'm six years old." Ross harshly said.

"You'll never be too old to kiss me." His aunt said. Just after she said that, his IPod began to play, for it must have been accidentally turned on. It was through ear buds, so the sound was low. But it was knowledgeable to his Aunt that it was Death Metal music that was playing.

"Oh, that Satanic Devil worshiping music, I'm surprised you listen to that now, you doomer." His Aunt said, next to walk back to the dining room area without the wish granted of her grown nephew kissing and hugging her, the devoted Catholic was not tolerant in any way with Satanism, and hated the idea that he now listened to Death Metal.

"Sorry to hear that you're six-year-old nephew now listens to Death Metal." Ross said to himself.

Ross had walked to the commercialized machine to start working on the pile of dishes that were there. The pile was rather large, since there was no dishwasher on duty for the past hour, it was there slow time at the restaurant. The disgusting pile of dishes contained platter plates mostly remains of cheese ommlette, something Ross hated to wash. The cheese would stick onto the plate, making it difficult to scrub it off. Ross shut off his IPod from his pocket and threw it into his coat pocket, where his coat was hanging up. In that same pocket contained a 9mm Glock pistol, loaded and placed on safe.

"Ross?" called a female voice, coming from outside the back room. He zipped up his coat pocket at a fast rate of speed.

"Ross?" Said the same voice, with footsteps indicating that she was now in the back room.

Ross turned around to face a senior citizen female customer who had known Ross since he was a child.

"Yes?" Ross replied.

"I said hello and I asked how you were, and you didn't reply." She said, followed by a chuckle. Then continued, "What, can't you say hello anymore?"

"Hello." Ross sarcastically said.

Then she laughed at that and mocked Ross's hello. She shook her head and walked away after that. Ross approached the dishwasher with a green scrub pad and began his work, looking at his watch, seeing it as 4:00pm.

"Five hours of this and I'm done." He said to himself.

Two hours had past an the restaurant was filled to capacity, it was quite busy on a Friday entering the evening hours. Ross, the hard-working man that he is, was able to keep up and then some while working a grueling shift, keeping the bus tub up front empty and keeping the cooks happy. Ross was able to mind the process of the fast-paced work and the disco music that was playing through the speakers, music Ross absolutely hated. The station that played this music would stick to it on the weekends and including Friday, usually starting at 5pm. There promos would define it as the 'Flashback Weekends.' Also with promos stating to there listeners to be happy, although not directly.

That promo had come to pass after a commercial break, making Ross comment to himself, "Someone should call the DEA on you, I know you people still do heavy drugs. The 1970s are over." After that promo followed a song by Barry White. Ross had looked out of the back room area, seeing that everyone there seemed to be eating still or was already done, his bus tub had nothing in it.

"Okay, it looks like it's the time to do the deed." He said to himself. He walked back to his hanging coat and drawled out his 9mm Glock pistol, loaded and ready to go.

"It's just too bad that this will be the last song I ever hear before I die. Hell, maybe they will blame Disco music." Ross cracking his last ever joke. Ross stepped out of the back room and was beginning to make his way to the dining room area with his gun being held down. A lame customer who knew Ross very well was on his way to the restroom, noticing just Ross at first, not the pistol.

"How ya doin', Ross?" He asked.

"Shut up." Ross replied, not looking at him, but straight ahead to everyone in the dining room.

The man stopped and turned around in disbelief of what Ross suggested him to do.

"What did you just say?" He asked, seeing Ross walk away, he then noticed that silver thing Ross was holding in his hand. He saw Ross put that silver object towards his head, realizing that silver object was actually a pistol. At first split second, the man was in disbelief, he then tried to react, moving towards Ross at a high rate of speed, telling him, "Ross, don't do it, man!" Before he could make it and the people immediately around him and Ross could notice, Ross squeezed the trigger, a bullet had his the temple of his head.

Widespread panic and disbelief had entered itself into the restaurant, with many of those customers exiting the building at a high rate of speed, skipping the bill. Some had stayed and saw in the horrifying nature of a dead Ross.

This later became a special report on one of the three major local TV stations at a quarter after seven, stating it as a public suicide at a restaurant. At the same time, the restaurant was already closed, with nearly a dozen police officers with some medics floating around. No one was allowed inside the restaurant or past the yellow police line, stating 'Do Not Cross.'

A suicide note was found in Ross's coat pocket, cased with an envelope stating, 'If I completed my deed, please read.' The note with Ross's handwriting stated:

'To whom it may concern,

I was once very happy with what little I made. A measly $450/week, $1900/month, sometimes working up to three jobs. I didn't need a million dollars and I could tolerate prices on anything jumping up a bit. UI was happy with not having a relationship but taking a one-day relationship with a escort or a ****, which took some dough away, but I was happy at the end. Then one faithful day in June, my primary place of employment had laid me off forever, followed by my car taking it's last breath, all within 24 hours.

And for those people who tell me to be positive and happy while I get pushed back to square one, why don't you try that? Why don't you crybabies actually experience losing all of your prestige? You're wife wouldn't love you anymore and people would think less of you. I didn't have a wife because I knew she would leave me when those bad things began to unfold.

But I ask myself, why can't these people understand me? That question was answered if I have completed my deed.

Ross.'

Ross's suicide had made second on the Ten and Eleven o'clock news, a disturbing trend on a one-year old case of a dead suburban white woman seemed to be better than some loser calling it quits with life in public. After the report involving the one-year-old case. The showing went to the front of the restaurant, guarded by police officers. With plenty of on-lookers, quite a few of them very upset by what had just happened. A photo of Ross not smiling was on display as a flash, with the reporter commenting that Ross had lost his job at General Motors and was depressed and down about that. A couple of comments from people at the restaurant came to pass, a first-time customer said he was rather freaked out by the 'big boom' as he defined it. A person knowing Ross personally was producing tears while making her statement, saying Ross was such a good kid. But she was wrong on one part, Ross died at the age of Twenty-Seven. The news being a large brown-noser for ratings, had showed his Aunt crying heavily on camera, with a male customer holding her, trying to comfort her in anyway possible.

Portion of Ross's suicide note was released to the media by the police. Along with his family stating to the media that he recently started listening to Death metal, sparking a religious special interest group to state that the devil made Ross take his own life, although it was clear that he called it quits due to 'the lost of his prestige.'

And life never would be the same for most of Ross's family. And for the people who did actually see more to Ross than being the retarded nephew of the owner of the resturant his aunt owned.

Keyword: Public Suicide Dying Job Loss The End Goodbye Ross Dies

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Comments (3)

Posted by gtmike 2008-08-16 20:59:57 lighten up Dude, read your story and then your profile. Lotta' anger there and writing is a great way to let it out but slow down enough to do some proof-reading and grammer and spell-checker. Using Death Metal, in capitols no less, umpteen times is repetitive. We get it, it feeds his anger. Glocks are made from polymer, no silver shine. Read your dialog aloud to check for realism. Avoid irrelevant details like a customer skipping the bills, or what time the newscast aired. I found them distracting. Once again, proofread, like "the owner of the restaurant his aunt owned." redundant. The basic idea was good but it felt hurried. GTMike + Report this comment
Posted by FleetHepburn 2008-08-21 22:48:16 .... This is your second story in a row about job loss that ends in a public suicide. Just curious, what's your inspiration? + Report this comment
Posted by philneale1952 2008-10-29 04:49:53 Style Having read through virtually all of your stuff now, I have to agree with GTMIke above. There's clearly a lot of personal feeling in your writign, and that's not a bad thing in itself - we all need to write what we know about. You could try a different genre though to give a more varied approach to you abilities. They are there. Phil + Report this comment

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