A burst of citrus dug into the sides of his mouth.
"Man, I don't get paid enough for this shit," a familiar voice floated over from somewhere beside him.
He bit his tongue to clear his head.
"Seriously though, the only thing keeping me here is Meryl's fat ass."
His face twisted into a mild grimace.
"C'mon, you really ain't gonna react to that?" the man walking next to him bumped his shoulder.
Saliva trickled down the wrong pipeline.
A pointed glance was thrown at him, "You good?"
He broke out in a fit of coughs.
The lemon sucker that was half-way down his airpipe was pushed back up, and he hurriedly took out its wrapper to spit the sour monstrosity into. Meanwhile, his companion broke out in laughter, wheezing for breath as he desperately tried to cleanse his palette by chugging water.
"Oh shit, Johnnny- You actually scared me there for a second, mate."
"Fuck you," he replied briefly before taking another sip.
"My god- Pfft- So you really weren't kidding when you said that your greatest fear was lemonade, eh?"
"If you don't shut the fuck up right now, Bryce, I'll stick a lemon up your-"
He suddenly slapped a hand over his mouth, staring at the woman who was walking towards them. She had a voluptuous behind that literally jiggled every step she took. Her brown locks fell across her back in waves, elegantly framing her piercing hazel eyes and porcelain white skin. She pushed up her glasses as she stopped in front of them, making her gaze seem even more condescending than it already was.
"Up your what? Come on, finish that sentence," the woman approached the two, putting a hand on her hip.
"...I mean... Up- up in your... I'll stick a lemon in your cup of water?"
"Uh- yeah! He just wanted to give me some fancy water," Bryce nodded vigorously.
"Hm... Alright. Just know that any inappropriate conduct will result in a reduced pay," her eyes narrowed, glowering at the cowering men in front of her, but eventually sighed and crossed her arms.
"Sure, Meryl. Will do," Johnnny saluted.
"That's Ms. Brown for you. 6 cents off your next pay-check."
Both Johnnny and Bryce immediately stiffened, and stayed silent after Meryl's statement. They remained completely still until the woman scoffed and slowly walked away. As soon as she went out of sight, Johnnny collapsed onto his knees, hands covering his face.
"...Johnnny fucking Smyth," Bryce glowered at him, the wrath of a thousand years creating visible flames behind him, "What kind of fucking bullshit did I just hear? 6 cents? 6 CENTS?!"
"I didn't know she was so strict about professional names! I called her Meryl last time and she didn't even flinch! Sorry, okay-" he stammered, not meeting Bryce's glare.
"Fuck you. How am I gonna feed my wife now?"
"You don't even have a wife!" Johnnny slowly got up, brushing the dust off his pants.
"Urgh, don't remind me. Anyways, at this rate, my next paycheck will be like $10 less than it would've been. And I even snagged that 12-episode job a week ago! Sigh… what the hell am I gonna do with $18.80?" he shook his head.
"Grab some beer and the good stuff… What else? Besides, I only got a 4-episode job, so I'm far worse off then you."
"Whatever. I'm still mad at you."
"Bro, you literally took $7 off my paycheck last month. You have no right to be mad at me," Johnnny scoffed, then gestured for Bryce to start walking, "Get over 'ere, I needa take a look at a piece of paper. The bills ain't gonna pay themselves."
"Urgh, are you still on about that? I literally treated you to dinner for a week straight after," Bryce rolled his eyes, stepping into place beside his co-worker.
Johnnny shrugged in response, then stopped as they entered a small room. Inside, a singular table stood in the dingy closet-like space, a piece of blank paper neatly placed on top. Bryce stopped at the doorway, a smug smirk on his face.
"Don't need the paper right now, since I asked it yesterday. Got 26 episodes this time."
"Lucky bastard… One of these days, I'm gonna get one of those weekly shows and score some actual money," he grumbled, walking up to the piece of paper.
Bryce patted the other's back before exiting the room. Johnnny was left alone and began staring at the paper. He splayed his fingers over it, then started to mumble.
"Employee #293. Oh gods, please give me a weekly release show, please give me something good, please I've been such a good person- well, not really, but still…"
Suddenly, a jingle started to play out of nowhere, and a random child's voice rang in the air. A tone of annoyance laced the voice's words, as if they were done with life.
Shitty magic laws are forcing me,
To only sing in fucking poetry!
I want to hang from a tree,
So, could you please hear my plea?
I am but a lonely, trapped teen
Fuck the guy who created me-
Episode count is the difference between
your desired length and reality.
His coughed, then mumbled, "Damn... this better not be what I think it is."
A string of numbers written in red slowly appeared on the previously blank piece of paper as the jingle slowly started to quieten. 13-1=12. Johnnny stared at the second number for a long time before sighing and shuffling out of the broom closet.
Outside, Bryce glanced at him and smirked, "Judging from your expression, I'm guessing the paper voice guy either gave you only a few episodes, or it roasted you really badly."
"It gave me the 'difference between your desired length and reality'. Like what the actual fuck? I don't need yet another reminder of my one-incher, okay?" he scowled.
Bryce burst into laughter, "Pfft- Oh my- Oh my god… I mean, at least you got a decent number of episodes, no?"
"Yeah, 12. I got 12 episodes," he shrugged.
"Eh?! Dude, then why the fuck are you sad? You scored a huge one! That'd probably get you at least a few grams of the good powder and a couple of beers."
"But it insulted my poor phallus… It hurt my feelings-"
"Shut up before I punch your face in," Bryce deadpanned, an unimpressed expression on his face.
"As if you could, you middle-aged, meth-addicted alcoholic. I could probably beat you up no problem in an actual fight," he stuck his tongue out childishly in response.
"Yeah, well… At least I'm not the one with a micro-penis," Bryce wagged his pointer finger at the other's face, a smug smirk twisting his lips.
"BITCH- That's a low blow," Johnnny dramatically placed the back of his hand on his forehead, pretending to wilt slowly onto the floor.
"You're a lost cause, bro. Anyways, hurry the fuck up. Meryl's gonna whoop both of our asses- not that I mind- if we show up late to that weekly meeting stuff she does."
"Are you kidding me? I don't have the energy to deal with Janet, or the patience to even talk to Peter. That guy's really nice, but definitely isn't the sharpest in the shed... Actually, I bet he thinks 1+1 is a color."
"Huh… Wait I actually wanna ask him that now," Bryce stretched, then started dragging the reluctant other as they walked to the meeting room.