In the Interest of Time

You watch as she cleans the toilets and wonder if she washes her hands before she cooks you dinner as your wife is at the club and she won’t have time to order anything out which makes you laugh a little inside since you can never laugh on the outside unless it’s about money in which case you laugh, literally, all the way to the bank and you see her in the kitchen scrubbing her hand and then your dishes before she puts them in the dishwasher and you wonder why people do that and if she knows you’re intent on how she cleans since you’re in a petulant mood and would love to fire her and she sighs but doesn’t make any mistakes and besides she make a Hell of a roast chicken one that you can’t get when you order out something about the hint of rosemary and maybe some lavender maybe herbes de Provence  ha! something nobody knows that you know about and then she walks through the livingroom to get the vacuum which will be the last thing she does before she leaves through the back door and gets on the bus to go to her second job stopping only to check on her kids witht the cell phone that she buys by the minute and won’t turn on during her time in your home becuase she doesn’t want to waste the minutes those kids that you could have taken away from her if you really wanted to fuck with her life they stay home at nights and they’re only 7 and 9 and she doesn’t know you know that but you make it a point  to know shit even if none of it matters and especially if it doesn’t seem to matter and most of it is easily forgotten if it needs to be but every once in a while something does make a difference like knowing that Atherton was using speed and when you wanted his job it was so convenient to convince him to come clean as it were to the bosses and then you sat behind his desk in the corner office with the big window and basically doing a little paper pushing and being able to smoke cigars and buy the wife her car that she zooms around town right now she’s going to the club and there’s the woman you know her name but it’s one of those ethnic things that you hate why can’t they just be Daisy or Rose or Ethel like in the old days now they’re Carmen or Gabriela or Ignacia and sometimes Olga or Sveltana or Elana but those ones are too damn mouthy and demanding they expect more from their employers even if they don’t belong here and are just biding time until they can find some fool to marry and pop out twenty kids with have to give this one some credit she just had the two and works two jobs one at the company you supposedly run and you see her occasionally when you go back to get something you left or cover the tracks of your affair with Marta another eastern European type but one who can suck you off like you’ve never experienced and you know she knows and that’s why you’d like to get rid of her but the wife is already suspicious and you figure you can’t really afford this house and the Lambo out in the garage if you have to give half of it away so you go on the vacations and you pay for the tennis lessons and you watch this woman who you give five bucks to at Christmas for the last four years and you watch your wife drive past her and wave from the convertible as the woman goes to the bus stop to do the swing shift with her huge brown suspicious nosy fucking eyeballs and you think of those kids and how you could fuck her life up royally because what else does she deserve coming into this country and expecting expecting expecting and making it so that other people start thinking that maybe minimum wage isn’t all that great while you just don’t give a shit about their hungry fat assed whiny kids who only know what a watermelon tastes like because of the free lunch program your fucking taxes pay for and then you think that it would be worth it to see those burdens on society gone forever those small maggots who will just expect as much as their fucking revolting mother it grows what’s the word yes exponentially and then they have more and more kids unless they kill themselves which would be a blessing and you rustle your newspaper, fold it and go to bed until you wake up in the morning to a pounding on your door and you find uniformed policeman asking you if you know Gloria Tevez and they inform you that there was a fire which you later find out was started in the kitchen when the woman got home from work and left a burner on and the battery in the fire alarm was missing probably because she had to buy food instead and she was so exhausted that she didn’t wake up when the smoke killed her and the flames took them all and the apartment next door also and you shake your head at the officers and you sigh and you wring your hands and say it’s a tragedy and as you shut your door you think you’ll get an eastern European next time after all.

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