Mr. Health Nut

“Mr. Health Nut” by Holly Sheidenberger

I hate people.

Not all. Just the ones I meet.

Precisely sixteen minutes exist between now and the fortune-making, business-breaking deal going down in the conference room with a crucial high-priority client. According to my boss.

And this jerk in line has already wasted four of those minutes trying to order a simple sandwich.

“Can I get that without kale? Or onions. Or garlic if you use it. And please leave off the carrot strips, that seems rather unusual on a san–“

I’ve had enough.

“Hey, give Mr. Health Nut here an egg salad on white since he’s apparently allergic to vegetables,” I yell at the cashier.

“To go. Stop wasting everyone’s time, Asshole.”

There’s barely time to inhale my banh mi pita and hustle straight to the conference room.

Everyone is already shaking hands with the client.

It’s Mr. Health Nut, a telltale speck of egg salad on his lapel.

Shit.

Dyeing

“Dyeing” by Holly Sheidenberger

She dumps six cans of baked beans into one flimsy plastic bag. The thin package of bacon gets its own bag. So do the taco shells. And the individual loaf of bread.

Ashlyn is a miserable bagger, in every sense of the word. She hates working here.

Her shift is over, but she has to put away the “go-backs” before she can leave.

Luckily, there’s only one item today. A dented box of easter egg dye.

She’d rather pay the two dollars to buy it than put it away.

An hour later, Ashlyn’s home, apartment reeking of vinegar, fingertips stained blue and green. Twelve colorful eggs drip on her coffee table.

She’ll leave them out till tomorrow.

Feasting on cold ham, potato salad, easter eggs, and wine, Ashlyn celebrates the day alone.

By evening her gut is in full rebellion. Salmonella.

An agonizing night lies ahead.

But at least she won’t have to work tomorrow.