Solutions: A Dog's Dilemma by James Gerard (books to read in your 20s female .TXT) 📖

response to seeing no one around gawking at what he was doing, no one around to criticize how he was going about the work, and no one around to frustrate him.  He was in the warehouse alone, amidst the cool air, and safe and secure from the influences of the outside world.

 

I can do this, he thought.  One by one each box was packed with all items.  One by one they were sealed.  One by one they were loaded on a pallet.  Each pallet was then securely fastened with the plastic wrap.  The forklift positioned each, one by one, in front of the loading docks.

 

Minutes turned into hours, hours into days.  Rick just kept going.  He wanted to send a message to them about not fearing work no matter how hard it may have seemed or no matter how sick they were. This was about true character, his true character, despite the circumstances they saw him in.  He was tireless, committed, obsessed with reaching the self-imposed goal as high as it was set.  He did not cease.

Eating Scraps

 A loud scream startled Rick.   He opened his eyes to see a woman standing a few feet away from him.  Her face was barely visible under the glaring warehouse lights.  He looked around and  tried to find something familiar to recognize, but the eyes and mind were not yet adjusted to the reality around.

 

A thunderous stampede was heard coming down the hallway.  He was panicked and thought about jumping up and fleeing, but chose to lie still regardless of why the woman was screaming or where he was at.  All of a sudden a gang of people came rushing into the warehouse to the woman pointing to Rick, “Who’s that?”

 

Familiarity set in.  The pallets neatly lined across the way reminded him of the location.  He let out a sigh then plopped his head back onto the makeshift bed.  Mumblings came from the crowd.  Their collective eye was just on him.  He was about to announce his identity and purpose to the crowd when a clopping rush came down the hallway.  

 

“Everyone relax,” a voice shouted.  “It’s okay.”

 

Rick looked up at Jack.   He figured he was in trouble for camping in the warehouse without permission and for having eaten some food out of the refrigerator near the bathroom.  But Jack just walked up to him, looked down, and smiled.

 

“I’m so sorry Rick, I forgot all about you.  You didn’t have to wait for me to come back.  You could’ve just left on your own.”

 

“I had nothing better to do.”

 

“What’s going on here?” a voice rang out.  Rick could only smile in reaction to what the man was observing.

 

Jack turned his attention to the pallets lined up neat and straight in the area of the warehouse’s bay doors.  Rick watched as Jack and the man whispered among themselves.  They were looking up and down and across the wrapped pallets apparently reading the contents and counting to see if the count was accurate.

 

Jack scratched his head and walked over to Rick.  Rick watched him as he slowly made his way while looking over to empty space and the absence of trash.  He watched Jack walk past him and to a door leading to the warehouse’s refuge bins.  Rick smiled knowing Jack would see additional evidence of what had occurred the past three days.  The bins were half full with cardboard, broken down and neatly stacked.  Wads of plastic, empty plastic rolls, and all other recyclable garbage were scattered about the stacks of cardboard.

 

Jack made his way back to Rick, “Are you telling me you did this all?  Just you?”

 

Rick shrugged his shoulders.  “I was bored.”

 

“You did it all?  Just you?” asked Jack again.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Jack turned to the crowd.  “Well everyone, it looks like we can all go home.  The work is done.”

 

Murmuring filled the warehouse.  Rick detected disbelief and confusion in the voices, but one by one they left.

 

A woman lagged behind.  “Are you hungry?”

 

“Mostly I’m tired,” yawned Rick.

 

“Well then,” said Jack, “just go ahead and stay here tonight.  I’d like to talk to you tomorrow about something.  By the way, go grab you some blankets we use for shipping.  They’re over there in the closet.”

 

Rick laid his head back down as the bright lights were turned off and the two left the warehouse.  Just as he was about to fall into deep slumber light lit up the darkness and the sound of shuffling footsteps interrupted the silence.  He heard three soft thuds in succession followed by footsteps fading into the distance and the light cut off by the closing of the double doors.

 

The sweet smell of food wafted about the warehouse.  The distinct aroma of treats from the past started the mouth wateringand the stomach grumbling.  All of a sudden fatigue turned to desire.      

 

What the hell, he thought.  Rick jumped up and walked over to the light switch.  “Wow, they couldn’t have left this all for me.”

 

Three tables topped with trays lay before him. It was a meal fit for a king.  Bacon and ham and sausage and scrambled eggs and home fries and pancakes and an assorted variety of fruit and juices and pastries and behold, the object of his desire, coffee.  And he knew it was all for him.  He figured it was a reward worthy of the work he took on and conquered. 

 

Just then one of the double doors cracked open and a pack of tailor made cigarettes came sliding over.  Rick laughed with glee and rang out a thank you loud enough for the world to hear.  In his wildest dreams he never expected the banquet that lay before him or the pack of tailor made cigarettes. 

 

Desire now controlled the thoughts.  Unbridled passion pulsed through the veins.  The food called out like a tempest’s sweet singing wafting in the wind.  He grabbed a paper plate, served himself a healthy helping of potatoes and eggs, grabbed a handful of bacon, put the plate down and grabbed another and loaded it with a large stack of pancakes.  He spread out a huge gob of butter on the pancakes and drowned them in maple syrup.  He squeezed out a stream of catsup over the potatoes, and with just the right amount of salt and pepper, the feast was ready.  

 

His mouth watered up in anticipation.  Each bite was delicious.  He attacked the plates like he had never eaten breakfast food before.  The plates were finished off fast and more was craved, however, the stomach could not accept another bite.  He looked at all the food and decided instantly it was not going to be thrown away.  A plan was formed.  Some of the leftover trays were covered and placed in the fridge.   Rick covered the rest of the trays and carried each outside to the sidewalk then laid them down to the right of the building’s door.

 

Rick waited patiently despite the chill of the cool morning air.  His eyes went from side to side scanning the area.  Finally, a familiar face came into view.  “Hey Lefty, tell everyone breakfast is served.”  He knew Lefty would spread it around and the food, every last bit of it, would immediately find its way into empty stomachs, stashed away for later, or taken only to be discarded by those whose appetite were for everything but food.  Nonetheless, he felt good about giving the leftovers to his fellow campers.  What each one did with the scraps was none of his business.  But, he thought, they better remember my kindness to them next time any of them act up and get me mad.

 

Rick made his way back into the warehouse.  He grabbed as many blankets as he could carry in one trip and plopped them on the floor and arranged them just so.  Anticipation yielded to action.  He had wisely kept the urn of coffee to himself and poured the liquid gold into a paper cup and added just the right amount of sugar and cream.  The aroma was heaven to him, but was missing its companion.  He quickly opened the pack of smokes and lit one up.  He plopped down into the padding of the makeshift bed.  Every dog has his day, he thought.  Pure contentment relaxed his mind and body as he sipped on the coffee and puffed away on the cigarette.

 

He was awake and alive.  The feeling was a type of existence he had not experienced for some time.  The serenity eliminated the moments and hours of potential boredom.  A broad smile replaced the frozen countenance of anger.  He could not remember the last time he had felt so good, so alive, and so energized. 

 

I did that, he thought as he peered over the arrangement of pallets.  Who else but me could do that?  Yes Jack, your eyes aren’t deceiving you.  Yes Jack, that’s the trash in the bin.  How did I do it you ask Jack?  Well, you see, I am strong.  You want a tough job done, come and ask me and it’ll be done.

 

Rick poured himself another cup of coffee and lit another cigarette.  He walked over to a pallet and ran his hand over the plastic wrap.  He could see the professionalism in perfectly aligned boxes with perfectly layered wrapping.  He shoved the pallet hard but the boxes did not move.  He figured if he were to lift it by hand it would be in perfect balance with each corner bearing the same weight as the others.  His eyes took delight in the perfectly placed pallets.  Each was easily accessible to the blades of the forklift.

 

Thoughts of sleep lay way off in the distance.  The warehouse seemed a bit dusty and dirty.  He located a push broom and went to work.  The broom swept dust and shreds of cardboard and paper and plastic from under and around the tables, amidst the aisles of the pallets, and covered the sea of emptiness all around the perimeters.  Yet the floor still did not look right.  Ah, he thought, it needs mopping.  Cleaning solution and spigot and bucket and mop all came together and brought a long lost luster back to the floor.  Now it looked right.  He had spent hours working, sneaking bits of food out of the refrigerator, draining the urn of the liquid gold, and smoking up most of the pack of cigarettes.

 

Eyes looked over the warehouse one last time and admired everything he saw.  He could not wait for Jack’s reaction to the perfection about.

 

Rick yawned deeply.  Fingers rubbed the eyes that signaled the time for sleep.  Although he had slept the last three nights in the warehouse, he had not had the time to appreciate the surroundings.  Worries about the insanity of the outside world vanished.  He was alone.  No shouts or screams or sirens interrupting the solitude.  Even the temporary bed was better than that of the sleeping bag and thin layer of cardboard.  Darkness filled the warehouse as the lights were flicked off.  Secured in the darkness, his eyes closed for a long night of sweet slumber.