Angels of Mercy - Volume 1: Elliot

Chapter One - For the Love of the Q

My day at the Q went pretty much like any other day. I prepped the machines to churn out the requisite soft ice-cream that Dairy Queen was known for - a pale mixture not too unlike frozen liquid paper (that probably contained quite a few of the same ingredients, come to think of it) - a heart-stopping coagulation of fats and chemicals. That broad assertion of its core ingredients was made by my mother, Kayla Donahey. As a bona-fide health nut if ever there was one, she had the irony of owning the local DQ franchise that she inherited when her father dropped dead - in the store, in front of customers no less - only two short summers ago. Coincidentally, and much to my chagrin, the very same year that I was able to legally work. You can just imagine my euphoric bliss. This was how one, Elliot Donahey, entered the workforce: a by-product of a family franchise transfer. Sometimes I marveled at how my grandfather had timed things so precisely to check out of life so everything could change hands with nary a wrinkle in the process.

That fateful hot summer day, Taylor Campbell, a wiry 6’ 3” tall man, was the sole employee manning the store. As with most people, he had no way of knowing that day would be his last. At the time, he was 63 years, 4 months, 22 hours and 13 minutes old (I did the math later - hey, I was bored), and was busy running the local shop he’d had for the past thirty years - working on probably his two millionth Oreo Cookie Blizzard - never realizing that it was his number that was up. 

At exactly 4:57 pm he dropped dead on the job. The only reason anyone knew the exact time of death was because, as the aneurysm burst in his head and his body took its death plunge to the floor, his right arm caught the electrical cord of the store clock, yanking it out of the wall and thereby fixing the time of death for all to see. By six that evening a distraught and frantic Kayla, with a disheveled and confused me in tow, had the store operating while she tried to coordinate calls to the family advising them of the change in ownership and what time the funeral services were going to be held. Meanwhile, she left me alone to do battle with the obtuse workings of the fryer.

I would’ve thought that she’d’ve closed the store due to a death in the family. But you’d have to know my mother, practical to a fault. And she was worried about money - so the store stayed open. She said she’d grieve later, in private, alone in her room. I tried to comfort her. She told me she was going to be all right but needed some time alone to process it. It was a very lonely night for us both.

Other than the steady decline of customers due to the recent downturn in the economy, not much had changed in the two years since my familial indentured employment began. I was now on the cusp of turning 18 on the second day of August - a little over two weeks away. You know, that momentous occasion in a boy’s life where I was supposed to blossom into manhood. Where I, I dunno, like sprout hair on my chest, grow a huge cock and want to bang a gaggle of women - or something like that. Sadly, since it was only Tuesday, July 17th, I still had a couple of weeks before I could claim the status of being a pseudo-adult American male. I still couldn’t legally drink, not that I had a hankering to do so, but like all red-blooded American males, I was working on that.

This particular Tuesday though, seemed like any other. In fact, since we’d taken over the Q, all of my days stretched out before me like the blank white walls of the shop. It was just one boring set of non-events that meandered into another. I had no way of knowing how this particular day’s events would drastically change my life forever.

For today was the day I would fall in love.

I’d like to say, looking back on it later, that the air smelled different, that the sun was a bit brighter, that I was greeted by deer and birds on my walk to work, but no - no change. Same ol’ boring Mercy day. I’d always imagined what it’d be like to have a special someone in my life. There’d no doubt be challenges ahead for us: the thrill of the chase, the incredible emotional highs and hopefully, very few lows. But for now, I just refilled condiment containers, had buns queued up and stocked the requisite food supplies for another thrilling adventure-filled day at the Q…