text: “Hey, Bill.” “Hey, George.” My patrons greet each other. Nothing has changed, wives are a pain, jobs suck, and the world is crazy. I hear it day in and day out. Same drivel, same nonsense, but shit, I get paid to listen. “-What I’m saying is, if he gives you the eyes, you can’t show you’re afraid!” George exclaims. I loathe business talk. It always riles up the customers. I can’t seem to go a night without somebody trying to start a ruckus. “Well what was I supposed to do? I’m not gonna argue with one of the brokers, they give me the heebie-jeebies.” Bill shivers with the thought. “Do I have to explain everything to you? I swear the bloody sun has more sense than you.” George sighs, “If you go to a meeting expecting entrails, and you get offered eyes, you have to explain to them diplomatically that eyes won’t cut it for what you are trying to do. Don’t fucking argue with them you dolt. Gotta be diplomatic, like them preachers.” Religion! I think. That’s even worse than business. I want to steer the conversation away, but there is no stopping people when they get going. “The preachers? They don’t know shit. They are always saying that the bleeding sun is a sign of the end of the world. The sun has been bleeding for over a decade! I don’t see any end times!” Bill shouts with exasperation. “Just because the sun started bleeding and the brokers showed up, deciding they ran the world, doesn’t mean I have to put up with one of them squidfaces welshing on their end of the deal!” I set down the glass I was cleaning and turn the men. Trying to convey a jovial appearance I say. “Can I get you gentlemen a refill? Can’t have any dry throats in my establishment!.” My voice cheerily interrupts their conversation. “Fuck off squidy, just because you own the place doesn’t mean you can speak unless spoken to.” Bill says. “See this is my problem with all of them squidy’s who aren’t brokers. They think that just because their freaks of a kind run all of the black magic they have the right to speak to us real people. I can’t believe that mankind owes a debt to these lot. They are pathetic.” I can’t stop my tentacles from squirming in agitation. These so-called “men” think that I wanted to be summoned into this world? I was dragged here by the foolishness of “men” like these thinking they could harness greater power. I will not be spoken to in such a manner, I will show them the power I hold. These puny “men” couldn’t fathom the worlds I have seen and devoured under my undying shadow. But I have instructions, and I will follow them. “Well I’ll be here if you need me!” I assure them. Yes, I will be here. Waiting for the time when I can serve them. Waiting for the time where I can wet my own throat.