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gasstationshane · 4 years

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Tales From The DishWasher, Part 1

In a small town, on the north end of main street, on the same side as the dollar store and local ice cream shop, there's a restaurant that is one of the more popular dine in places in town. On the front side, there's a large sign made out of an maroon awning that shades the outdoor tables and chairs for those that want to eat outside or smoke.

On the back side, there's a sign painted on a metal maroon wall with the restaurants name. There's also a lable on the side of the walls that tell you if the doors are for the kitchen or the entrance. If you were to walk in from the back entrance you might wanna make sure your not walking in through the kitchen door. We've had an array of customers that walked in and ended up with a bag of trash falling onto them. One guy even tried suing us because salsa got on his brand new white jeans. Look, even if he didn't see the sign, the door is obviously a kitchen door.

Now if you walked into the actual back entrance, you'd see a small array of arcade machines that were more then likely made in the 90's. The audio from the games faded from years of dust and play time.There's also a small stand of gumball and candy machines, one of the ones where you can get a temporary tattoo for 50 cents each.

A few footsteps and a turn to the right, you'd see the vast open area. Booths to the immediate right and left, a bar on the slightly farther left, tables all scattered around with more booths on the right and left against the walls.

The kitchen area, which would be left at the arcade machines, has a few different sections. The left of where you walk in is the front line cooks area, a grill, friar and a freezer along the front and back as well as countertops with storage cabinets for lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and other toppings or side foods.

On the right of the entrance is the dishwashers station. A shelf and carts for the servers to sit the dirty dishes on, and a big sink with a sprayer and a few different soap options on the wall. There's of course, the washing machine that's usually used just for sanitation purposes.

Behind the dishwasher station is the shelves where the majority of the dishes that aren't plates or bowls are kept. Most of the kitchen employees keep their stuff there so it's out of the way. And finally, behind the front line cooks, are the back line cooks area as well as the walk in cooler and freezer.

In the dishwasher area is where I work. I spend most of my shifts there and only leaving to put away dishes or use the bathroom or even get a drink. Not everything's normal here though, most of the eventful things happening at night when it's just me and whoever is the main cook that night, and the closing bartender.

We've dealt with a pack of stray dogs that live in the old car wash station across from the dumpster. Their friendly though thankfully, begging me for pets and belly rubs after every shift as well as treats. All of them are a mixed breed between a husky and a wolf. I've taken the liberty of naming them all.

There's Yogi, the big grey and brown male who got his name from how much he looks like a bear. Luna, a blue-ish grey and white one, who got her name from the moon shaped crescent spot on her back. Waffle, a all black one with blue eyes, who got his name by sniffing out the waffle's in my bag one day. Then there's Crash, who's red orange-ish fur makes him look similar to the famous video game character.

There's a few pups too that I haven't named yet because I haven't had time to witness their personalities. Luna, the assumed to be mother of the pups, keeps them in the old storage room of the car wash. I've re done the storage room a bit to give them a bed and a few other things to help her take care of them.

I'm thankful that no animal control or pound people have taken them yet. If they tried, I wouldn't hesitate to take them home to keep them safe. The only reason I'm not taking them home now is because they are used to this place and I don't wanna make them uncomfortable. But believe me, the moment I feel like they are danger whether it be animal control, or them needing a vet visit, they'd be in my custody in no time.

And then there's the mysterious bar truck driver, a trucker who is always at the bar, no matter how early we open. The only time he's not there is when we're closed. He's always wearing a hat, flannel, and some form of camo. He drinks so many combinations of alcohol during his visits, it's a miracle he never passes out or hadn't died of alcohol poisoning. He knows all the words to all the songs on the digital bluetooth jukebox. If you ask him, he'll stop drinking long enough to sing a long to a full song of your choice if you buy him a drink.

And then there's the mysterious puddle of water surrounding the water softener and the pump. The puddle almost always fills the area where the tile is broken. No matter what we do, the puddle never goes away, and is a murky grey color. Sometimes it won't be as much water, but we could be closed for a week and the puddle will still be there. It doesn't help that some water that sprays off from the sink or gets spilled can add to the puddle.

I guess what I'm saying is, weird things happen at the patio restaurant in town. Mostly at night. Weird stuff has been happening even before I started working there. I remember a week before my first shift, there was an incident where all the liquors and vodkas to make mixed drinks were stolen, broken, or empty, as well as ate a whole gallon of ice cream. The whole situation could have easily been blamed on one of the bartenders or other employees at the time, but they were closed that day.

T-Dog, the main front line cook that I close with most of the time, thinks that the bar trucker pick pocketed the key and the security alarm code when we closed early one night. That would make sense, since they closed early the night before and he could've needed to make up for a days loss worth of drinks.

If you ask him, T-Dog always has a somewhat reasonable explanation to any weird thing that happens there. "That puddle isn't mysterious.." He told me after I had accidentally stepped in it again and almost fell over.

"The water softener is leaking, but since we run water so much with the sinks, washers, and bathrooms, the leak doesn't have a big impact. You think the owners would fix this shit, but since it's not causing any problems, they ain't touching it just to save them some fucking money." I always made an effort to hear out his explanations. They may or may not be true but it's way better than my theory about the bar trucker peeing on the broken tile. But my theory would explain the weird smell that happens over there, no matter how much we clean over there.

T-Dog isn't the only cook I close with. Some nights it's Danny, or Jack. Jack tends to ignore the weird things happening here. But he's also the cook that doesn't make me do everything I need to do before giving me the okay to leave.

And I know he doesn't do it because Tobias, Toby for short, is the opening cook in the mornings has told me multiple times whenever something doesn't get done. I see Toby once a week when I actually work a morning shift. He's one of the not so serious cooks, and jokes around every now and then. There was one time where acted like he was gonna knock over my drink.

What's kinda funny, about Toby being the not so serious guy around here, he doesn't believe any of the weird things that I've told him about. He thinks it's rumours to get more customers in.

"Shane, that bar trucker is only here for entertainment purposes. We don't have a stage so he just sits and takes his drinks at night to keep the drunks entertained." He explained. Well.. There was one night that Toby closed for the first time. He learned the hard way that the weird things really do happen here that night.

It was around ten thirty, and we were working on finishing our stuff up for the night when we heard a loud crash come from the cooler. "The fuck was that?" He asked. I shrugged.

"Maybe Alex is still cleaning his stuff up." I replied. He shook his head.

"No.. I saw Alex leave almost an hour ago. There's something back there." I finished taking care of the next load of dishes that needed to go in the washer, before following Toby to the walk in cooler. He was carrying a broom to defend us incase there was something that could attack us or scare it away.

We opened the door slowly to see, not one, not two, but three possums in the cooler. They were snacking on our most recent batch of precooked fish sticks. They looked up at us like a kid who had just got caught sneaking out. Toby went to swing the broom to get the mammals out of there, but as he did one of then jumped on the shelves, knocking down the large ice paddle.

It smacked into Toby and made him fall back. When he landed, the force of the fall against one of the shelves, causing a case of beer to fall onto him. Glass shattered, making him covered in glass shards, beer, and blood. Most of them in his legs and chest.

"Gah!" He cried out as he went to pulling some of the glass pieces. I rushed to the shelf where we keep the first aid kit, handing it to him but he smacked at out of my hands.

"Call an ambulance Shane! A first aid kit ain't gonna fix this shit." He yelled with a look of frustration on his face. I sighed and went to the area where the phone was and dialed the number for the station. When I had explained the situation, the man on the other end sounded genuinely confused.

"You said a Possum snuck into your walk in cooler, and made a ice paddle fall onto your co worker, which caused a case of beer to break onto him??" She asked to confirm what I said.

"Umm yeah that's what happened."

"But how would a Possum get into the cooler?" Possums usually never bothered with the busier end of town."

"I have no idea, but that's what happened!" She let out a sigh.

"And which restaurant in town was this again?" Now it was my turn to sigh.

"Darbie's Patio on Main Street..."

"Ooh that place!" She said, realizing who she was dealing with.

"Please hold." She said. I assumed she forwarded the call to the department that takes care of our cases. As much weird shit that happens here, the department has given us a specific branch and a officer to take care of us.

"Hello, this officer Mark here. Who is this?" He asked in his professional cop voice. Mark was the officer assigned to us, being close friends with the owners. Him and the owners have probably seen more weird shit than I have my whole life.

"Hey Mark, it's Shane Redfield from Darbies Patio. There was an accident with a few possums in the cooler, and now Toby is covered in glass shards." I briefly explained.

"Hang tight, I'll be there with an ambulance in five minutes or less. If there's any big chucks of glass in him, do not let him take it out. If he bleeds out before he can get to the hospital, that's bad news." I thanked him, hung up the phone and stayed with Toby while we waited. The bartender brought us both a drink. He took a long sip before looking back at me.

"Hey Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"..Does weird shit like this happen all the time...?"

To be... Continued

#tales from the dishwasher #tftgs fan blog #dishwasher shane #darbies patio #shane redfield #shane from darbies

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gasstationshane · 4 years

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I was driving to Los Angeles with my brother Mark, when my life changed forever. He had just graduated from high school, and accpted into the same college that I was going to. We with were on a road trip to Los Angeles so I could show him all the good spots for food and other needs as well as celebrating his graduation. Mark kept changing the radio or the music on the bluetooth speaker about a few hours or so after getting out of the Michigan border. At least it felt like a few hours, but it honesty could have been longer. Time flies when your driving.

At one point, we had to be bluetooth only for our road trip music, since the radio signal was so bad that all we were getting was nothing but fuzzy feedback. It's funny, you think with as advanced the way technology is these days, they'd have something to stop dead zones. But I guess people that make these things focus on one problem at a time. I wouldn't know exactly, despite me being a gamer and hopefully a graphic artist someday.

When we got even deeper into the woods that we were driving into, it started raining hard. Mark couldn't help but chuckle.

"You gonna be able to drive okay if it storms, or do I gotta take over?" He asked, teasing me about my fear of thunderstorms. I looked up through my window, and I was confused as hell. It was raining, pouring and a storm was about to hit. And yet, there was not a cloud in the sky. It was night time, but with all the stars shining, it was easy to tell. I sighed and shook my head.

"No I'll be fine, but I'll pull over the moment I feel like the storm is gonna effect my driving." I answered him in a slightly louder voice than usual, the rain hitting the car being loud. It's weird, even though thunderstorm's scare the living hell out of me, I enjoy the sound of rain hitting windows and cars. If the thunder is loud and hitting fast, like an elephant that just saw a mouse, I become filled with panic and freak out.

I heard thunder roll, and I sighed. It wasn't loud, but thunderstorms are like sloths. Slow and determined. I looked out the window once again, the starry night sky filled with dark clouds. Mark seemed to notice the difference between now and when it started raining.

"Are we ahead of the storm or something? How the hell did we get no clouds to a full on overcast?" He asked, just as confused as me. I shrugged.

"No idea. The rain more down south could be different than back home but who knows man." Suddenly, more thunder rolled. It was louder than before and I could feel it make the steering wheel vibrate. I pulled over, feeling my body already begining to shake. I hated how bad my fear of thunderstorms was. It was embarrassing that a 21 year old could stop doing anything instantly, just by hearing thunder. Mark reached over, rubbing the back of my shoulder gently.

"It's okay bro, I'll drive so you can get some rest." I nodded in response, getting ready to undo my seatbelt so we could switch seats. Mark already had his off. I took longer due to the shaking. My hands kept slipping and I almost had it when I saw a very bright light. I looked out through the windshield, seeing a semi truck. Once my eyes fully focused, I saw that the truck was swerving. My eyes widened. He was on the wrong side of the road.

My fear turned into a panic and my fight or flight mode, my body instantly honking the horn and trying to put the car in reverse so I could get us out of the way. The truck didn't go back to it's side of the road, and the car was moving slowly.

"Shit! Mark get out!" I shouted to my brother as I looked at him before going back to trying to get my seat belt off. It was stuck, making me growl in frustration as I desperately tugged at it. Suddenly, the truck hit us, making my body slam against the seat belt before violently pushing me back against the car seat. I squeezed my eyes shut out of fear. I heard a loud smack before hearing Mark cry out in pain, I looked towards him to see if he was okay, but the air bag went off, hitting my face without warning and knocking me out within seconds.

When I was awake again, I looked around. I was somehow still in my seat, the seat belt still clicked into the holder. I looked around the car, Mark no where to be found. Panic once again surged through my body, making finally get that damn seat belt off. I got out of the car, looking around for Mark and calling out his name.

When I found him, he was laying a foot or so away from the car. He had a bruised gash on his forehead that looked like he purposely slammed it onto a rock, a few shards of glass from what I could only assume was the windows or even the windshield scattered into his chest. I ran over to him, shaking him slightly.

"Mark! Wake up buddy. Come on we gotta get you to the hospital. Dad's gonna kill us, but it'll be okay." I said, trying to get him up. He didn't budge. I stared at him blankly, hoping like hell he'd show me some form of movement. But.. Nothing happened... Before I knew it, I was already crying. My brother was dead.. And it was all my fault.

I screamed in frustration, pulling my phone out of my pocket and dialing 911. I heard a beeping and looked at the screen. No signal.. "Shit!" I shouted, running down the road to try to find help as quick as possible. My emotions were really fucking me up on the inside... I could literally feel my stomach burning. After about a mile, I saw a gas station on the side of the road. Oh thank God! Maybe now I can actually get some help.

Before I could walk in, a huge raccoon jumped out of a bush in front of me, causing me to fall on my ass. I looked at the furry trash panda, confused. When I said he was huge, I didn't mean he was fat. This guy was so big that if he stood on his hind legs, he'd be three feet tall at least.

Something else strange that I noticed, as he came closer to me. He was carrying a small amount of what looked to be a couple dollar bills in his mouth. What.. The fuck? Why was a Raccoon carrying cash with him.. Don't they usually steal food or some shit? Before I could scare him away, he dropped the bills into my hand and got close to my face. He nuzzled me with a purr before heading back to the woods, leaving me there confused with bills in my hand that was dripping with raccoon drool.

Normally, I'd be grossed out at this point but I had more important things to worry about. I got up and walked into the gas station. "Hey, do you have a phone that actually works? I've been in a bad car accident and I need a ambulance. I'm pretty sure my brothers dead.." I explained, panting heavily from panic as I looked at the cashier. He looked to be about my age, but clearly needed a good nights sleep.

He had dark circles under his eyes that even made me feel tired after the shit I've been through. I saw the name tag on his shirt. His name was Jack. Jack... Why does that sound familiar? I shrugged it off as I got closer to the counter.

He looked up from the book he was reading before using a crutch to stand up against the cash register, sighing softly like I interrupted something important. He must've been at a good point in his book to have that reaction.

"If you wanna use the phone, it's twenty five cents a minute. Pay in advance, no exceptions." He said as he looked at me, seeming to think that I wasn't in a serious situation. So that explains why the raccoon gave me those bills earlier... But how did he know. There was a strange familiarity about the place. A guy named Jack that works at a gas station in what felt like the middle of nowhere, who also looked like the word sleep had absolutely no meaning in his vocab. A quote from a blog I read a while back came to my head.

'At the edge of town...' Then a bunch of details I couldn't remember at the moment "... Theres a shitty little gas station, open twenty four hours a day, seven days a week." I also remembered the blog mentioning something about a three foot tall raccoon named Rocco. Then it hit me. I wasn't at just a gas station. I was at THE gas station. The one that was talked about on a blog called 'tales from the gas station' by a guy known as gas station Jack. And that very Jack, was right in front of me. Well.. That explains the raccoon. That was Rocco.

"Holy shit!" I blurted out, unable to hide my fanboying. "Your gas station Jack! Author of tales from the gas station! Dude!" He looked back at me with a look of shock. This is the most awake he looked during our interaction. But now that I know who I was dealing with, the whole sleep deprivation look made sense. If I remember correctly from the blog, he had fatal familia insomnia. Meaning, he couldn't sleep. At all.

"You've read my blog?" He asked a bit confused. I nodded and smiled softly, ignoring my body shaking violently from the accident.

"Hell yeah! I've also listened to it being read by Mr. Creepy Pasta." I stated proudly, hoping he'd appreciate that detail. He sighed, crossing his arms. I was surprised at how well he was able to balance himself on his crutch.

"Are you sure your not making this up to get a free phone call? Because it's not gonna work. No exceptions. And no alternative forms of payment either." He said before repositioning himself so his arms were resting on the counter. I laughed and shook my head.

"Nah, I'm not the kind of guy that would use your Internet fame against you." I handed him both the dollar bills, not sure how long the call would be.

"Thankfully, Rocco gave me some cash before I came in here." I explained as he took the bills. He was gonna ask about Rocco, but decided against it once he remembered the situation I was in. He spun the egg timer and handed me the phone. Within in a matter of minutes, I had explained the accident I was in and was told that help was on the way.

I gave the phone back to Jack and thanked him, before heading back to the scene of the accident. They wouldn't let me ride in the ambulance with Mark, explaining that they needed room so the paramedics could start working on taking care of him. Instead, I rode in the passenger side of the cop car, with deputy Amelia O'Brien driving. I kept quiet, secretly happy that it was her that gave me the ride. She was another Character in Jack's blog. It was so cool to know that not everything he put in the blog was made up.

"He's gonna be fine." She started, snapping me out of my thoughts. "It looks like he hit his head on the dashboard. He's knocked out and possibly in a coma." I frowned, looking away. Maybe she was just trying to convince me that I wasn't responsible for my brothers death. A wave of guilt washed through me, the pain and burning I had felt in my stomach hours earlier had came back. I couldn't tell if I was gonna throw up all the stomach acid in my body, or explode. I was cringing and O'Brien had pulled over to the side of the road. I opened up the car door and fell out onto my knees. I felt like I had just gotten the worlds worst flu. I'm sure my body temperature exceeded one hundred, my hair and skin were already drenched in sweat. O'Brien stood next to me, calling in for another ambulance. And suddenly... I blacked out...

To be.. Continued..

#tales from the gas station #tftgs #tftgs fan blog #werewolf from the gas station #gas station shane #shane from the gas station

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