Jack Kukoda

Okay, first day on the new job. Got to make a good impression. Work hard, stay busy, look alert. That’s right, just play it cool. Gonna have a long career here at Henderson’s Nail & Glue Factory. Oh, yeah, gonna be the best night watchman they ever had.

All right, let’s get started on those rounds. Check on the production line first. “Hello, anybody in here?” Nope, the coast is clear. Okay, moving right along-”Ow! Ahh, shit!” Dammit, just stepped on a nail. Well, that was bound to happen sooner or later. It is a nail factory, after all. Just didn’t think it would happen so soon. Okay, just pull it out and we’ll keep going. That’s it, pull it out-think happy thoughts! Okay, it’s out. Remember to get tetanus shot first thing in the morning.

Hmm, think I’ll check out the packaging room. Well, looks like everything is okay in here. Why don’t I turn on the light to make sure. Now where’s that switch? Oh right, it’s over-Fuck! What is this goo? Oh, it’s a tub of glue. What the hell is it doing in the packaging room? Glue belongs in the glue room for shit’s sake. Ah! I’ve got glue all over me! Okay, calm down. Just get to the bathroom, clean yourself off, and keep going. Now where’s that bathroom? Right, it’s across the hall, at the end of the prototype testing facility.

All righty, just have to get across this nail testing room and then I’ll be at the bathroom. No sudden movements. Just creep quietly across this cavernous hall, filled to the brim with pneumatic guns that shoot hi-tech nails into various targets. Certainly don’t want to make any noise since the guns are sound activated. That’s it, almost to the bathroom, being very quiet-Oh no! Is that glue? Did I just step in glue again?! “Shit ass! Who left all this glue here? This is just goddamn ridiculous!” Oops! Why did I yell that? The nail guns are activated. Time to run. Okay, running. Running pretty fast. Ouch. Something just hit me. Was it a nail? Possibly. Ouch. Another one. That was definitely a nail. I can see it halfway into my leg. Keep running. Ouch. Is that-yep, that’s a nail. Right in my ass. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Oh, God. Too many nails to warrant their own individual “ouch.” I’d reckon there are about six or seven dozen technoligically advanced nails stuck in me. Hope I don’t pass out from pain or blood loss before I get to the bathroom.

Whoo! Made it. Hmm. Should I even bother to clean this glue off now? I mean, yeah, that was my original reason for coming to the bathroom, but it just seems less important now compared to the 72 carbon-titanium hybrid nails sticking into my body. Hmm. Okay, first I’ll get the nails out, then clean the glue off, then tend to my wounds, then eat a ham sandwich, then finish my shift, and finally, go to the doctor.

All right, turning on the faucet. You have got to be goddamned joking! There’s glue on the faucet! Sweet mother of God, this is not cool. What kind of dog and pony factory is Henderson running here? That’s it, I’m not working here. Now way, man. I’m leaving. I’m getting in my car and going home. Where’s the parking lot again. Oh right, it’s just past the glue room, where they keep giant vats of glue at a constant bubble for seemingly no reason at all. Hmm. That sounds like it could be a bad idea. I’ll just take a shortcut through the nails-infected-with-hepatitis room. Save myself at least two minutes. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Damn, I’m smart.