Solace Through Darkness (Solangelo One-shots)

What, You Chicken?

"Aren't you on outside shift for today?" Lou pulled off her jacket and started changing into her work uniform: a white T shirt with a red collar and black yoga pants. I groaned.

"Don't remind me."

"It's not that bad, bro," Cecil told me.

"Yes. Yes it is," Lou giggled again.

"For me it is," I told Cecil.

"How so?" he asked.

"Well, some tweens started throwing potatoes at me last week."

"I think you mean tomatoes."

"No. I mean potatoes."

"Dang," Cecil whistled.

"Just until I earn my degree, guys," I reminded them.

Lou Ellen snickered. "Yeah, because working at Chicken Nation is a great thing to have on your medical resume."

I rolled my eyes. Neither of my best friends ended up going to college, and were hired at Chicken Nation, "Where Chicken rules supreme". Then they found out I was looking for a job to pull me through on food and stuff for my first year of college, and so dragged me into this mess. And naturally, once a week, I had to dress like "King Cluck", the mascot, and pull in costumers off the street.

"Katie!" I called to our manager. She was vegetarian, and was totally disgusted with her job, but did it because she too had not gone to college.

"What, William?" she yelled in her hoity-toity British accent. She was from West Virginia, so I still don't know how she ended up with a voice like that.

"Where's the Chicken costume?"

"His name is King Cluck, and he's in the hall closet!"

"Thanks!" I walked to the closet in my underwear. No one cared. It wasn't like they hadn't seen it a thousand times before.

I pulled the crusty chicken king off the hook and sighed. This probably wouldn't be fun.

...

I held the sign against the back of my head. It had started to rain, and I was not a happy camper. The clouds reflected my negative mood, and I basically felt like rubbish. What the heck was wrong with me to take a job like this?
Then, a super expensive-looking car pulled up besides me. The guy inside rolled down his black tinted window to survey me.
"Hello," I tried for a smile. "Want anything?"
"What the heck are you doing with your life?"

I huffed. "Actually, I'm going for a undergrad in medical surgery. Once I get my license, I'll make sure to diagnose you with prostate cancer or something."

He whistled softly. "Someone's sassy. Why are you flipping signs in a chicken suit if you're so important, Dr. Cluck?"

I winced at the nick name. "My friends needed help, I needed to rent an apartment. What can I say?"

"You say no," the guy replied. "Really. I look at people like you and I see a waste of space."

I glared intensely at him.

"Wasted potential, too," he went on. I was about ready to smack him when he opened the car door and approached me in the rain. The water made his dark hair stick to his face, but he didn't seem to mid that much.
I was about to say something mean when he dug one hand into his coat pocket.
"Here," he said, holding up a wadof cash. I stared blankly.
"Are you retarded? Take the money."
I snapped out of many trance. I flipped through the money. They were all thousand dollar bills.
"How... Why..." I stuttered.
"I hate to see good people with dead ends. That'll get you through college, plus some. Don't waste it."
He turned, splashed through puddles back to his car, opened the door, and drive away.
I looked through the cash again. This time, I noticed he left a slip of paper in it. With his phone number.
Nico do Angelo
Interbusiness
815-555-7342

I smiled. I was definently making a call tonight.

A/N: Well, we got this far. ToA comes out tomorrow. If Solangelo isn't cannon, I say we kILL UNCLE RICK. All of what I've wrote will most likey be disproven. I just wanted to say...
I love you. All 3.08k of ya. Thank you for reading my awful story.

Make no mistake, if Solangleo is cannon, I'll start writing again. But just consider these all AU's.

Love y'all, and good night. Kristen, out.