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Tasha and Janelle

Copyright 2013 Douglas T. Vale

Cover image courtesy of Galaiko /

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Table of Contents

1 - Tasha and Janelle

2 - The President

Tasha and Janelle

After a long day erecting meals, Tasha went to a tavern. She didn't bother changing clothes or untying her curly black hair from the nape of her neck.

That night she met Janelle, but she wasn't thinking about meeting anyone. She just wanted to sit on one of the tavern's hard stools, stretch her legs out, massage her neck and listen to it creak as she turned it this way and that, drink alcohol, and hope to forget the day. The day like so many others, with the endless blare of the giant alert screen, flashing with the latest orders, the scrabble to unload the hundred-pound packages of frozen potatoes into the oil vat the size of a swimming pool, the shouting and the bustle to hoist giant slabs of meat onto equally giant sandwich buns using hoists, pulleys, ropes, and much else. Such work was draining. Tasha laughed softly as Erin, the tubby bartender girl with the pimple on her nose that never died, set a fresh mug of beer in front of her.

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