Changes

Just another average Saturday. Well... average for me equals insane crazy runaround for everybody else. That looks bad when I write it. You think I protest too much? Perhaps, but everyone is so freaking slow. I go to the bank to make a deposit, they're not open. I try and put away some riding mowers and have to beg someone to help me. They don't have to do any work, just keep people away while I do my forklift thing. Coming home and the traffic is so snarled I have to wait it out. Okay, that one is a given. Rush hour on Friday is everyone's problem. I try not to be out during that time. My day starts while the sun is still thinking about coming up. The day ends after the sun sets. My life is going by in one perpetual sale event. I call these 'day wasters'. I can't do something before I go into Lowe's, and I can't do anything afterwards. Eat, work, sleep. That has been the highlight of my life for the last 10 years... and it sucks. This is why I'm trying to change things. My job is interfering with my work. 
Think about that one.
My day-to-day job at Lowe's is trying to keep me from doing the stuff that is truly rewarding. Despite interference from Lowe's, I'm slowly getting some short stories typed up.
In a way I have to thank the rat bastards. Their short sighted efforts in keeping me down have only made me more determined to change. Even if I only write one sentence at a time. Now of course I'd like it to be more, but most times I can't sit there and squeeze 6 hours of work into 30 minutes. Despite what people think, writing is work. I don't spit gold nuggets out the first time on command. I have to dig and polish, edit and revise. Get behind the big steam shovel and move some earth, rather than use a teaspoon. My spirit may get tarnished during the week, but my spirit rebounds on the weekends. I will write. I will write well. I will rise above the close-minded assholes and when things start to go my way, I will forget them... Except when I need a good villain to kill off. That's what ex-brother-in-laws are for.
Two ways you can make it into one of my stories:
Sometimes I'm able to insert the names of good friends as characters. There is a certain Russian blacksmith in my book that bears a strong resemblance to one such friend.
The other way is to piss me off.
I won't name you, but the description will fit you perfectly. You will know who you are. Think of me staring at you from on stage, singling you out from the audience. You'll also die in a spectacular way. It's quite therapeutic for me, personally. Offing the offending pointy haired boss in a hail of gunfire, or crushing him slowly in a compactor. It's all good fun.
But for the really evil rat bastards that live to make my life miserable, I will forget you. Banishing you to the dung heap of obscurity. Keep your retail sales and profit margins. You are a small cog in some corporate giant. Your name won't even come up on a Google search.  You deserve pity, and I will forget you. Success is after all, the best revenge.