Talented Failure: The Works of A.T. Prenger

  Bill-123 woke up in his seat to the sight of his Sergeant screaming in his face. It shocked him out of a pleasant dream he was having about being dead. Since they had the same face, with the exception of the sergeant having a scar on his cheek, a moment of confusion passed over 123 as he wondered what he did to his mirror to piss it off so much. He hated his Sergeant. The way he puffed up and yelled at everyone because he could. He yelled at every little thing they did. Just screamed his head off. All their actions were under his microscope from their battle tactics to their bunk cleanliness to who should be the pitcher on the platoon's baseball team. He hated the way he walked; strutting around like he was better than everyone else because of the stripes on his shoulders. Bill-123 wondered how that happened to him. What if things had been different. What if 123 had gotten promoted instead of 122? Would he act like the Sergeant? He liked to think he wouldn't. Something ...

     "I need a creative outlet."      This has been the thought I've been having for a few weeks now. I recently started a new job. After working in a grocery store I am back in an office. I took this because it was a better opportunity. Also? Working at the store was exhausting. That word has been thrown around a lot in the past few years and I understand. With a worldwide plague that has killed millions we're all exhausted. I had that dread combined with having to unload literal tons of flour every other day. I'm not being hyperbolic; I was shifting this weight by myself and I was tired. I would come home and fall asleep after every shift. I spent nearly three years just worn out and never truly awake.      Then I got a new job. It is a normal schedule and no longer manual labor. I got what I wanted: an 0800-1630 gig that I could leave the moment I stepped out the door. It was a relief. I am back into a rhythm where I work out in ...