I get back to my joint a 745am on the button and sit on the good ‘ol couch once again. I love this couch. Nice and blue and soft and Cush. I flick open the shoebox and tear aside the tissue paper. I ease off my boots and ease on my new shoes. Pretty fukkin’ cool. I stretch my ankles. Easy stretchin’. I could see myself climbing a mountain with these, easy. I take them off quick again, what was I thinking? Need some fresh socks to go with some fresh shoes. this calls for some excess. I sprint to my bedroom, yellowed bottomed socks flapping on the carpet. I dive under my bed and reach for THE BOX. The box of special things. You don’t need to know what all special things are inside this box, just that there’s a pair of fresh socks I was saving for a special occasion, like if I ever get invited to a wedding of have to go to a fancy sock hop. I got caught unawares at a sock hop one time, I looked around in horror as everyone removed their shoes and commenced to hoppin’. I didn’t dance that night because one of my socks had a huge hole in the fat toe area and the other one was mismatched. I wasn’t going to be caught unawares ever again. Slide my feet on the carpet, removing my funk socks without having to touch them. Nice trick, yes?

Of course. I have lots of nice tricks. I roll to fancy pair of clean fluffy socks on my feet and I feel like I’m in heaven, like I can do anything. Nice fancy clean socks that will get me in pretty much any sock hop if I wanted. Just look at them. Try to keep me out now.

I head back to the living room and put my new sneaks back on. Fukkin’ gorgeous. I stand up and do a few karate kicks like heeeyaah! Hnyahh! I don’t know karate, but you don’t really need to know it for real, just look at a few old Kung fu movies and do what they do. I sit back down on my couch, out of breath now.

The phone rings. I look at the clock. 8am. On the dot is good ‘ol Neiman. Or I guess it could have been coincidence. Whatever. I answer. Neiman speaks first before I can get in a hello, “well well well, up and at ‘em already? What a good trooper. First you knock the red file out of the park yesterday, then you get up and answer the phone after the first ring again. You rarin’ to go?” “Sure am” I say, twirling the phone cord around my finger like a teenie bopper. “Good good” Neiman says “because I got the two files right in front of me. You ready?” I say “almost, can I ask you a question real fast though?” “Sure thing, shoot away my man.”

“I was watching the news at 4am today and...” “4am?! Jesus Cripes! You really are up and at ‘em! I was snoozing away at 4am. I’ll mark that down.” I hear some scribbling on the other end “okay. I’m done marking it down. What you got for me son?” “Like I said, I switched on the news this morning, and they were talking about how someone threw a frozen turkey off a bridge and an old lady had a heart attack in the boat that hit it. Some little kid got his wrist scraped with some shrapnel from the propeller. They say the police are looking for the guy that threw the turkey.”

“What’s your question?” Neiman says distractedly. “Well” I say “do these red files... are they like, not good? They make things happen all the time that hurt old grandma’s and the like?” Neiman says “sometimes. Didn’t we already talk about this? I’m pretty sure we talked about this already.” I think “no, I don’t think so, I think I would have remembered that.” “Well” Neiman says “is that going to be a problem? I mean, you’re the best we have at the moment and that’s worth something, isn’t it? To be the best at something?” I say “I guess, but... I don’t know, what if Deborah is like, in prison or something? What if she sprinkled that salt into a bag full of animal feed and the animal ate it, got sick, and kicked or bit its owner or something?” Neiman says “I get it. But look at this this way. These things aren’t connected. Tell me, what did you do with the first file?” I think back “I put some chili on the road and a car ran through it and a dog ate the chili and barked at a seagull?” “No, what specifically did you do?” I say “I opened a can of chili and dumped it out on the road.” “Exactly” Neiman says “put some chili on the road. And yesterday you threw a frozen turkey off a bridge. As far as I’m concerned, all you’ve done so far is littering food in a few places. That’s not so much of a thing, is it?” I say “no. I guess it’s not.”

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“Right!” Neiman says triumphantly. “Is it your fault if you load a chair into someone’s truck, secure it all the way down real good, then the guy drives like a lunatic and the chair falls out of the truck? Then a car behind the truck runs over the chair and gets a flat tire and a punctured oil pan. How does that have anything to do with you? You just set something in motion without knowing the consequences. Am I right?” “Yeah. I think you’re right. But what about the other parts that didn’t have to do with the chili?” Neiman says “what about them” I say “they were written down before I put the chili on the road. The dog barked in the end. Almost like the file already knew what would happen before it happened.”

Neiman goes quiet. I go on. “Where do these red files come from, Neiman? You said you weren’t some kind of secret agent, and I joked about it being like a science experiment, but this sounds a little like telepathy to me. I saw a program on it before. Is it real?” Neiman says “your job is to run these red files out there, my job is to send you the red files, hell, this one guy, his only job is to stamp the red files once they’re done. I don’t know myself what the deal is and I don’t much care to know. That’s not for me or you to know. What’s for me and you to know is our jobs. This is your second day on the job and I’m going to be frank. Stay in your lane. People don’t like it when you step on their toes. You’re acting like a waiter coming in on his first day at a restaurant and telling the manager where to move the tables. You and me, we don’t move the tables, we take the fukkin’ orders and go home when the manager tells us to. Right?” Until this conversation Neiman hadn’t sworn before, I thought he might be some kind of religious type but I guess he get’s riled just like everyone else.

”Got it.” I say “I’ll take the orders and leave when the manager tells me.” “Good!” Neiman sounds relieved. I wonder if there’s a guy over there with a job that keeps people in line when they start asking questions. Or giving answers. “Welp!” I say “let’s see what’s on the board today Neiman! Give me the good ‘ol deets if you do so please!” Neiman laughs “coming your way cappin’” He read off the words, I write the words and this is what we do. No questions. We make small talk after I write the words down, then we hang up. Neiman has work to do, what with his filing, and I have work to do, what with doing weird shit outside that may or may not get me put in prison, or killed, or someone else killed, or a chili eating dog indigestion, or a seagull a little fright. Fuck it. I don’t have anything else to do and I like these new shoes. I like gettin’ this money.