Money at the Lonely Gas Station

November 14, 2012
By jonathan worscheck BRONZE, Woodland Park, Colorado
jonathan worscheck BRONZE, Woodland Park, Colorado
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

My name is Jon Jack, a 25 year old that dropped out of high school when I was a senior. I now live the sorry life of regret and hope for luck to come my way.
“Well, another lonely night working the late shift at the “ol’ Loaf n Jug.” I think to myself, “But hey, it’s what pays the bills. I just can’t complain. I just wish I could get a better job with a higher pay. I can just think of the accessories I could buy with all that money!”
A red mustang pulls up at the pump, and a man with a flashy red tie steps out. After he is done filling up, he comes in to pay.
I say, “Hey sir, what do you do for that fancy ride?”
“Well, my good sir,” he replies,” it’s all in the money. Just have to work hard to the top, but if you must know I’m a song writer for Pink Floyd.” With that, he paid and drove off.
“Well then,” I say to myself, “I could be a song writer, too.” I start to tap a beat on the cash register making all the change rattle inside for exactly 30 seconds. “Man, I wish I had a lot of money like that man! Money is everything!” I sing out loud, “Money is the bills, it’s the gas in my car, and it’s the car.” “Oh, money! It’s caviar. I could by a football team. I could even by a jet. Money, it’s a crime, just makes me day dream all the time!”
All of a sudden the door to the gas station opens as an elderly woman walks in as I’m singing out loud in the store.
“Hey, how’s it going Miss?” I blurt out, trying to cover up my embarrassment.
“Huh? What did ya’ say young’un?” said the elderly lady that was carrying a Coach bag and was wearing the newest fashion of Ray Bans glasses.
“How are you doing Miss?” I repeat.
“Oh, yes, I did vote today. In fact I voted Roosevelt. How about you, young’un?” she replies.
“Oh, that’s interesting, and that’ll be $60.50.” I reply.
She fumbles out a few hundreds on the counter and says, “Is this enough?”
I politely push the extra hundreds back and deposit one of them and give her the rest of her change, “It’s your lucky day, Ma’am. Here is $339.50 in change.” I say.
“Oh, that’s very nice of you young man even though you voted for Thomas E. Dewey.” She replies and walks back out to her car.
I think to myself, “I hope money doesn’t make me that loopy when I’m that old. But hey, Money! It’s what makes the world go round.”
Buzz, buzz. I have received a text. Since it’s late and feels like I am working in a ghost town, I look to see who it is and read it. As I expected it was my brother who is my total polar opposite.
He said “Hey Jony boy, hope your late night shift at the gas station is going good. I just want to let you know even though you’re making minimum wage while I’m looking at buying a new Corvette, does not mean I think I’m better than you. See you at Thanksgiving! I might even let you drive me new Corvette.”
Feeling discouraged I start singing again. “Money! Get away. Get a god job with more pay and your O.K. I stop shortly after due to my lack of creativity and at the same time realizing that my brother is better than me and that I could not be a song writer. “Oh well…” I say. “I like it here I get all the free Pepsi products that I want. Plus I meet new people.” But hey, what would we do without money?”

The author's comments:
Written to make a story out of the song Money by Pink Floyd

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