This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “the Breaking” Down in the Dirt (v134) (the January/February 2016 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book A Stormy Beginning the Down in the Dirt Jan. - June 2016 collection book		get the 318 page Jan. - June 2016 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

High Holidays

Liam Spencer

    It was my first holiday season as a carrier. Being low on seniority, I had a long, difficult, feared route. It was impossible. The volume was murderous. I ran with everything I had, and still barely, so barely, made the times.
    My route was one that no one wanted. It was a nightmare, but it was mine. Before me, it had been messed up daily for a long time. I had finally cleaned it up to where mistakes were few and far between. The customers finally had consistent service, as someone had taken it over. Before I got stuck with the route, multiple carriers carried parts of it. Mistakes naturally happened.
    Customers were generous with tips. Most of the cards contained Starbucks cards or the like. Some gave cash, which was always king. Others gave homemade cookies or brownies, which was much appreciated. At one house, a child handed me a card. His bashful smile would make any heart melt. It would turn out that he had drawn it himself, in crayon. It showed me, with sweat pouring off me, handing him a package. It was sweet and accurate.
    It was a Sunday morning. At the time, we had Sundays off. My body screamed at me. Every fucking thing hurt. Seventeen hour days do no favors to legs or feet or backs or lifespans. I laid there staring at the ceiling for a while. There was no fun, no life. The job had taken it all.
    At least there was football. I turned on the TV, and watched for a while. I wondered if I could get up at all. I had to piss. Bad. Intense. I needed coffee. I needed food. I needed...something, everything, but could do nothing.
    Rolling slowly, I managed to get off the couch. My feet and legs screamed in agony as I slowly rose. “Another false start.” The TV announcer stated. I slowly walked to my bathroom, and let out a loud sound of relief.
    The coffee seemed to take forever to brew. I lit a smoke and coughed on the inhale. I looked into the fridge. Sundays were the only days I could make food for the week, so as to not have to bother after such long days of work. Absolutely nothing seemed to appeal.
    After two cups, I needed food, but there seemed to be nothing I could make that was quick and easy. My stomach roared. There was a container of brownies from a customer. It was a no brainer. I smiled as I opened the container. The brownies smelled a little odd, but I didn’t care. I shoveled brownies down my throat. In a flash they were gone, chased down by hot coffee. I followed it with a cold beer.

    Very suddenly, I was higher than any kite had ever been. I was totally zoned out. My body went numb as I got intensely sleepy. I somehow made it to the couch, barely, and was gone. Once in a while, I saw the ceiling. Shortly, the alarm clock smacked me in the ears. My day off was over.

    It was yet another hellish day. I raced against the clock, knowing it would win. My legs felt a little better. It was probably the fact that I had slept for nearly a whole day. Nonetheless, the torture continued, and the day was flying by.
    On one block, a married couple came rushing up to me. Their faces were panic.
    “You didn’t eat those brownies, did you?”
    “Yes I did.” I grinned.
    “We are SO sorry! Oh God, please don’t press charges! Our kids...they and their friends thought it’d be funny.”
    “Kids will be kids. Not an issue, really. It was kind of funny, to be honest.”
    Their faces showed a level of relief. I decided to relieve them some more by trying my pothead voice:
    “Hahaha...I know, man, I know....Let’s get the mailman high, man...Hahahahaha...”
    “and they did...”
    We all laughed for a while. The man handed me a card before they left. I opened it when I got home. It had a hundred in it.
    High Holidays indeed.

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