I would like to begin this by saying, sorry. You, presumably either the reader or the entity that is currently reading this over my shoulder (I can see you, ya know?), are going to be subject to a kind of info-hazard by reading this. The facts are clear on this, I have researched them quite thoroughly, that even if you only see a singular pixel from this page, you will sign some kind of contract with an entity you cannot see. You probably won't die from it, but I am no doctor so who really knows? Anyway, I'm gonna assume that you clicked on this to read a story, so to make up for the mind-virus I have just given you, I'll tell you one. My name is probably Ricky, for the past few years I have been working in Arizona at a job I never intended to stay at for more than a few weeks, but here we are. Legally speaking, Ricky is pretty much only qualified to work at "fine" establishments like this, but the man occupying the identity is worth far more than a motel labourer. I say motel labourer because I pretty much do everything around here, I've only seen a handful of workers other than myself here, and they don't last very long. I'd like to say I outlasted them due to my "superiority", but really I am just too stupid and desperate to leave.
You all must understand how a dead-end job turns into quicksand fast if you're lazy about moving on with your life, a week turns to a month and so on. That's not really why I stayed, I kind of have no choice. You see, the little area of the desert I occupy is pretty much the only place in freedomland I could find refuge, isolated enough to keep "them" off of my tail but populated just enough to find low profile employment. I work at a motel, it sucks. The rooms are kind of gross, the vending machine is almost always out of order, and the place is severely understaffed. If you come in at the dead of night, you'll find an empty counter, but if you ring the little silver bell, a very groggy looking man will come to yur assistance in just a few moments. I've worked out an arrangement with the owners of this place, I work here under the table for below minimun wage, and I get to sleep in the maintenance closet just a few steps away from the front desk. This means I have to sleep weird hours and take a chance everytime I take a quick shower just so I don't miss out on a potential customer.
Enough about me, I am sure you're all here for a story. I figured I'd start from my very first story at this place, my day one experience. I had gone from rehab to fleeing to Arizona for..reasons, and I needed capital quick. While I was staying here, I saw an ad up for "help wanted, literally any help WE DONT CARE!" so I asked the woman at the front desk about it. It's all kind of a blur between that moment and my first actual shift, I suspect heavy drinking to be responsible, so all I can really say about the hiring process is that it was quick, and they didn't ask any questions. It's almost like they knew what kind of employment I was looking for, because the "contract" they handed me didn't even require an offical signature, it just needed an X marking. It was kinda vague, but layed out that I would be payed traditionaly through a check, which they told me was only in there for legal reasons, I could accept cash if i preferred, and it also layed out some guidelines. Shifts are as needed, breaks must be short but have an even clockout time (10 minutes, 15, never 6 or 9 minutes), and that I could sleep whenever but had to be able to wake up if a new customer came in. It really only said that, I never even met the owners, just dealt with the woman I had met at the counter. She was my landline for any questions, and her number was indexed on the counter phone if I ever needed anything. It would take me a while to find out that there was no counter phone with an index, just an old shitty handset with a numpad built into the handle. I figured that I would figure it out. My first "weird" encounter came with a tenant that was booked before my first day.
I had already used that day, it hadn't even been a full two weeks out of rehab before I got started again. Some guy named "GlitterShy", which I gleamed from his shirt saying "I am Glittershy, address me as such", was nearby the hotel, acting very suspiciously. I figured he would be the right guy, I didn't know how right I would be. After the casual druggie introduction convo, he brought me to his van. It was a white work van, with tinted windows. He opened it up and it blew me back a little.
"How?" I asked
"I have a lot of connections, it's a good thing right? You can get whatever, prices are marked on each bin"
"No I...I meant how the hell is there so much room in this one van?"
It may seem like a dumb question to have asked, but seriously this was like doctor who level shit. The van seemed like it was as big as a schoolbus on the inside. I had to slap myself to make sure I was still awake. I looked around the van, and saw it was a normal sized work van, a bit bigger than a modern SUV, but without any other modifications. The driver cab was walled off from the back, which I could see clearly since only the back windows were tinted. When I went back, it was a normal sized van interior, gutted with only a duffle bag inside.
"Look, I can tell you need something, here's a hit, it's on the house. You know how to find me if it's satisfactory, thanks John"
"My name isn't....oh sorry yeah thanks."
I cut myself off before saying something stupid, he got into his van and sped off. The "hit" he gave me would've been enough to overdose a small middle school. Now I know what you must be thinking, "hey, shouldn't you like, not take a huge amount of drugs given to you by a stranger who might possibly know the cartel and some magic?", and to that I would say, "Hey, shut up, free is free". I can say with some confidence that I would never do such a thing now, but back then I was fiending. At the start of my first shift, I took some. Just enough to take the edge off.
I heard a noise, it kind of scared me. I didn't pay any mind to it afterwards, until I heard it again. It was a bell, like a counter bell, who the hell is ringing a counter bell in the middle of heave-oh shit. A customer, I need to get up. I groggily stood up, everything was spinning. I walked out of the supply closet and stumbled to the counter, confused at what I was seeing. Whatever that weirdo gave me must have been spiked, because a full blown fucking wizard was at the counter, quite annoyed I might add.
"Sir, I have been waiting here for DECADES waiting on you, what is keeping you so preoccupied?"
"decades? what?...I was gone for a few minutes.."
"Sir, YOU WILL HAVE TO SPEAK UP! I AM OLD, can't you see by my beard?"
He had a very long, white beard that was impressively in good shape. It wasn't styled, just straight pointed down, ending at his lower sternum
"Are you staring at my sternum? That's very rude, anyway, I would like some help with my room"
I followed him to his room, noticing I felt immediately sober. Sober like 4 months out of rehab sober. I couldn't explain it, but I had gone from higher than I had felt in months to exactly as sober as when I was a practicing catholic. Which was like, a long time ago. It shocked me so much I stopped dead in my tracks, just a few steps before entering his room.
"What? Are you missing something?" I heard him giggle "Maybe you've misplaced it" He giggled again
"Misplaced what?"
"Your high!" He burst out laughing, almost maniacally "You should see the look on your face! You look sober as a judge right now! I bet you didn't even notice the missing scars on your arm!" He continued to laugh, in a way that made me feel ashamed, a bit bullied even.
I pulled up my sleeve to find the scars on my arm had gone away. It's a long but not so long story, so long but not so long story short, I fell on a needle mid injection and it kind of fucked my arm up. Lodged the needle in sideways, tearing at my skin on my left forearm. It wasn't insanely noticeable to anyone who glanced at my arm, but I knew it was there. Except, now it was gone. A tattoo I had gotten right out of highschool was also missing, which was nice.
"Hey, what the hell man? What gives? Give most of those back!"
"I DONT THINK SO! You were pretty rude back there, eyeing my sternum like I was just some cheap, sexy, illustrious, beautiful, PIECE OF MEAT! Where I'm from, we steal WAY worse things than highs, scars, tattoos, and unknown sexual frustrations. You got off easy buddy."
"How? How did you do any of that?"
He looked at me like I was an idiot, tipped his long, yellow star speckled blue wizard hat, and spat out "Magic, duhh".
I frankly was almost upset enough to just walk away, but figured I should be nice to this seemingly all powerful stranger.
"What was wrong with your room exactly?"
"Well, as long as we aren't being coy with eachother, I'll just say it...I am missing a bitch or two and my paper stacks pretty low as of late. I was figuring a ruffian like you could teach an old man how to stack a mountain of 6x3's while impaling some hoes with my magic staff, dig?"
His outfit had changed as he said this, the blue robe faded purple, and the strange bracelet on his wrist turned into a gold plated rolex, diamond studded for extra effect. Although, I had some doubt about how real those diamonds were.
"Dude, I work in a motel, why would you think I have any money or ways to get money?"
He stared at me confused, then said "That shit you had swerving through you bloodstreams like a teen with his daddy's convertible was pure, like super expensive richie rich heroin. Impossibly pure actually now that I think about it, it is crazy how pure it was. I don't even think labs can create substances that pure, it had to have been mad expensive."
"No, it was a freebie."
He looked even more confused now "You're saying, someone gave THAT pure of a drug away for free? Who has that much money? I gotta find that guy instead."
"Some guy behind the motel, in the alley between here and that green church."
"Thanks loser, I'm off to make millions"
"Wait, give me my high back, you said it yourself that stuff was expensive."
"It doesn't work that way" he said as if it should be an obvious fact
"That really sucks"
"Even if it did, you were rude to me and you don't deserve a high that great, consider yourself punished. Bye, love you!"
With that, he ran away. I was still upset, but not fully convinced I had made all of that up while high. I woke up.