The Journey Of Clark Markley
Chapter 2: The Nowhere Diner in the Nowhere Town
Date: Thursday 23rd April 1981
A greasy kitchen, in a tired old Diner, off of some highway in knoxville. This was where Clark found himself a month and a half after deciding to make the drive up to Ohio. He had run out of gas at the end of march just as he pulled up to Tony’s Diner, and by some miracle of fate, they were looking for a new fry cook. Without much of a choice Clark had applied and been accepted for the job, starting that very same night. His new Boss, Tony himself, was a strict man, he ran a tight ship and Clark was good at staying in line for his own survival. If he got fired, the only way he’d get out of this nowhere diner and nowhere town was hitchhiking, and he didn’t want to abandon his car if he could help it. And so for now, this was his life, working shift to shift to get some cash and sleeping in his car at night.
Tony was nice enough, he had let Clark wash his clothes in the back room, thank goodness, and he let Clark wash in the customer bathrooms at night. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do, it was enough. Clark sighed as he flipped a burger patty, standing at the scolding grill and wearing a white apron, plus some other clothes that had been borrowed from his coworkers. They didn’t feel particularly clean, but he had to just tough it out, flip burgers, and then get out of this place.
The only way Clark could think to describe this Diner was a grease trap for lost souls. Wanderers with no purpose ended up in towns like these, jobs like these. People with no hopes for their future, no prospects. They visited, and ended up trapped, dragged down by the safety of the mindlessness of their lives, and after that they were too brainwashed to ever think about leaving. Of course some people did like this work, this town, but Clark wasn’t one of them, no way, no how. It was just so mind numbing, flipping burgers, frying fries, scrambling eggs. There was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn’t his passion.
“Markley!”, a sassy female voice scolded. She marched into the kitchen angrily, popping a bubble of gum and chewing it once more. There was a Texan quality to her voice as she yelled at him, causing her bleached blonde hair to bounce, and her golden hoop earrings to sway. “Yeah Angela”, Clark replied, annoyed with the woman eternally, all she ever did was yell for no reason. “Now you know that you’re supposed to be scrambling up some eggs for table seven darlin, so what's the hold up!”, she asked him with hostility, spitting her gum onto the floor as she leaned against a table in the middle of the tiny kitchen. “I’m getting to it, just gotta finish up these patties first”, he excused himself, flipping the second patty off of the grill and onto a bun with his metallic spatula.
She pulled a pack of marlboros from her back pocket and held one between her teeth, lighting it with a match that she swiped from a jar on a shelf by Clark’s head. She took a long drag of the cigarette before puffing out it’s smoke across the kitchen. “Them damn customers, so fucking needy, get this, get that”, she ranted, “Get it yo damn self lazy”. Clark just gritted his teeth, “Not like it’s your job to take their orders or anything Ange”, he muttered, receiving a slap to the back of his head as she heard his words. “Don’t take that tone with me boy, I know you need this job, one word to Tony and you’re out of here faster than rusty when the cops come to eat!”, she threatened, waving her marlboro in Clark’s face. “Yeah, yeah”, Clark muttered as she strode out of the kitchen, “Eggs Markley!”, she yelled as the door closed behind her.
Jesus Christ did that woman ever quit being a bitch, it wasn’t like she was any saint herself, Angela probably had secrets darker than her roots! Clark kicked the bottom of the grill, scuffing the black dress shoes he was wearing that had been borrowed from Tony. He screamed to himself quietly, he had always used this rage up on the opposing team when he played football, but for the last few months, he had nowhere to aim it, nothing to do with it, so it was starting to fester inside of him, growing every day until he would eventually burst!
At that moment the kitchen’s back door burst open, and in rushed a slim, nerdy boy, wearing thick glasses, and a white apron. “Afternoon sexy”, he whistled at Clark, who uncomfortably shuddered at the boy’s comment. “Quit it with that crap paul, I’m not a homo”, he demanded, yet he received nothing but laughter in return. Seriously? Back at school the nerds ran in fear when he threatened them like that, and Paul was the same age as him anyway! “I don’t know what it is, jock master, but those shoes, jeans, apron, they really like nice on ya, real hot”, he licked his lips as he washed his hands by the sink. “I only got one complaint”, he smirked devilishly. “And what’s that”, Clark sighed, unimpressed with the nerd’s supposed wit. “That your shirt is still on”, Paul chuckled to himself.
Clark grumbled to himself, what was Paul’s problem! Knowing Paul for the last month had really made him appreciate Mike back at The Addams Home for Boys, he was never a creep like this kid. Clark slammed his spatula down on the counter next to his grill and turned to face the loser. “Why don’t you give it a rest Paul, no one wants to hear your sad little comments, you’re getting nowhere that's for sure”, he marched toward the shorter boy, trying to intimidate him into shutting the hell up! But Paul just snickered to himself, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Looks like I am jock master”, Paul licked his lips, “You’re getting awfully riled up over little old me”. Clark grunted in frustration, “I’m not interested in you creep, I like girls, so back off or else”, he threatened, stepping closer and closer to the ecstatic weasel. “Or else what”, Paul goaded Clark, practically burning with yearning.
“I swear to god”, Clark yelled, grabbing Paul by his head and pulling his head back as he pushed him against the back door. “Don’t make me hurt you”, he warned, almost seething at the teeth as Paul kept his grin, laughing at Clark. “Pull it harder”, he teased as he slid his hands onto Clark’s legs, moving them south swiftly, Clark pulling away and shoving Paul to the ground. “Fuck you”, he snarled at the creep. Paul picked his glasses up that had been knocked off and chuckled on the floor. “Ah Jock Master, it’s days like this where I love my job”, the broken teen cackled evilly as Clark kicked him aside and stormed out the back door. “Angela needs a plate of eggs for table seven creep, get to it”, he demanded as he slammed the door behind him. “Yes Sir”, Paul snickered as he stared at the iron door at the back of the room.
Paul picked himself up and dusted his apron off, smiling about his interaction the same as he has for the past few weeks with Clark. His only wish was that Clark could have left something of his behind for the creep to take. “What the hell’s all the yellin back here about”, Tony burst into the kitchen from the restaurant door and glared at Paul. “Ey Creepy, where’s Markley”, Tony asked as he brushed a loose strand of his dark slicked back hair out of his face, he was annoyed as usual. “He had to get going for the night”, Paul lied with a sinister smile, “But no worries Tony, I can cover for him, my pleasure”. Tony just sighed, turning back around, “As long as there’s somebody making the fucking food back here I don’t give a damn”, he grumbled as he slammed the door behind him and left Paul to it.
Clark stormed through the parking lot behind the diner, his fists balled up ready to punch something, anything. This stupid town was like a black hole for anything good, it took all of your joy and hope and happiness, and it turned it to hate and rage and despair. Anger bubbled inside of Clark, not just the anger that was directed at that weasel Paul, but the anger at himself for giving the creep what he wanted, for thinking that the diner would work out in the first place, and especially for thinking that he was good enough to be able to make it back home to Ohio.
Clark marched past his car and out of the parking lot, he marched down the road for a long while, mulling over his situation, and what his life had come to. He came to a bridge after a while and sat on the edge. In that Moment every bit of rage he had felt, all that built up anger, just fizzled into sadness and pain. He didn’t know whether to acknowledge the beauty of the land around him, or to jump to his death and just end his nothing life. It wouldn’t be too much of a waste, he barely made it four hours away from Georgia before he crashed and burned. What would John and Mike think of him? What would his parents think of him if they could? They would all be disappointed in him, so he should just give up and admit that he was nothing worth saving.
Clark stared down at the water, it reflected his sadness and his pain, those were real feelings, but in his reflection, he also saw how pathetic he had become. He was sitting here whining about how bad his life had gotten when he was barely a quarter of the way through it! He was making his own way to Ohio, who gave a fuck how he got there! I mean, he’d fallen so far that he was even letting a little bitch like Paul get to him, seriously? Clark smiled at his reflection, he had almost succumbed to self pity and let the void swallow him up whole, but not today, today he would fight on, today he would march back into that kitchen and prove that he wasn’t letting a weasel creep him out, because Paul was the pathetic one, not Clark.
Clark got up and stepped away from the ledge of the bridge, turning and staring back in the direction he had come. The road was lined by trees, beautifully large sycamore trees that shaded him from the sun as he walked back towards Tony’s Diner. He wouldn;t get distracted by sorrow and misery again, Ohio was waiting! Grandma was waiting!
Clark made his way back to the parking lot and burst back in through the kitchen’s back door. Paul turned to see the commotion and the two stared directly at each other for a moment. “Well jock master, look who came crawling back to me after all”, Paul went to goad Clark once more. Yet Clark just shrugged the words off and turned away, washing his hands in the sink by the door. The room was greasy, but it sure did smell good, like fresh sizzling bacon. Paul waited for a response, a shudder, or a groan. But he got nothing, he was ignored, as simply and easily as you ignore a common housefly, or an ant.
Paul chuckled to himself to try to save face, resting his spatula down on the counter and tiptoeing towards Clark. The snake slid his hand up Clark’s neck and through his hair, ruffling it playfully. “Guess you decided to come back like a good little lap dog”, he smirked. Yet once again he was given no reply. Clark just shrugged, calmly taking Paul’s hand off of him and walking over to the grill, taking Paul’s place and flipping the bacon with the greasy spatula.
Paul grumbled with frustration, why wouldn’t his favourite boytoy react? That was half the fun! What was the point if he wouldn’t get mad, get horny, get something! Paul glared at the back of Clark’s head and turned away from him, storming out of the kitchen and onto the restaurant floor. Probably off to mess with customers for fun.
The second that the door closed Clark gave a wide grin that spread from ear to ear! He had finally figured out how to shut that little nerd up, to ignore him. Huh, now he thought about it that kind of made sense he guessed. He reveled in his victory, breathing in the smell of the greasy bacon, beads of sweat running down his face from the warmth of the grill. As he shifted his weight from one foot to another the floorboards creaked. Things like this were things he had been ignoring when they were things he should have been listening and feeling for! These noises and feelings made the human experience human!
In his depression he had almost forgotten that.
But now he was wide awake once more, and more pumped up than ever for his journey to Ohio that lay ahead of him, just six hours away! And who knew, maybe he’d stick around this nowhere place for a little while longer just to get his revenge on weasley little Paul. And to earn more money, he really needed money too, like badly.
And so with that, Clark had broken out of his funk and remembered what his end goal was, Ohio. Childhood nostalgia, and his Grandma's house that awaited him. He’d swap grease and must, for baked goods and cinnamon. Swap sleeping in his car to save money, to sleeping in a nice warm bed. And it would be glorious he smiled as he revelled in his joy, glorious!
Thanks for reading!
Sincerely, the General Waste