Peach Cocaine

Casey Wolton couldn’t stop staring at the small handwriting on the yellow, lined piece of paper. She knew she’d be seeing him this Friday and it had only be one day since they had last saw each other. She didn’t dare touch it, afraid it would burst into flames. Plus, she was afraid of jinxing anything.

Giving it one last longing look, she heads out the door for work.

No, I will not call him, Casey thinks determinedly as she swerves through early morning Thursday traffic, I’ll be seeing him tomorrow and that’s it. I’m going to play hard to get whether Pale Fish likes it or not.

Hard to get, Casey hasn’t ever needed to try. She usually forgets an arrangement with a boy as soon as she remembers it. Normally she disappears into the folds of her life: work, college and her dog when a guy starts showing any type of interest.

It isn’t that she’s afraid of having her heart crushed. Oh no, she expects that with a welcoming hand. Hey, heartache, lets be best friends since we’re going to be stuck with each other for quite awhile! Maybe Caleb can make us chicken noodle soup and read us a bedtime story?

Not in the slightest of her problems.

What Casey is really afraid of is that she will forget the relationship as soon as it starts. Since she’s been working at Quick Stop, getting her degree for Illustration ( she’s on summer break right now ) and taking care of Chum, she really hasn’t had time to think of relationships. So Casey is worried that she may not be able to devote the time for her male fish companion that he could want.

But a musician.

Now there’s somebody she can get involved with. They’re so wrapped up in touring, partying and fans, Casey wouldn’t have to be troubled nearly as much about giving love and affection like a normal fish would need. Though she’s heard quite a few stories from Caleb about his wild sex life. And how horny he is all the time on tour.

Her face cringes in abhorrence at the notion.

Musicians are definitely not normal fish.

No, Oliver Sykes, Pale Fish, is not the average fish in this vast ocean inside her mind. Partly why she is so intrigued by him. Partly why she wouldn’t mind starting a relationship with him, even if it means crushing her soul in the end.



Casey arrives at work shortly after Joey Young does. Since she rejected him on Monday, he’s been avoiding her at all costs.

Even sending Marissa Stewart, Quik Stop’s newest brilliant employee fish, to help Casey whenever she needs to carry boxes in, or anything, for that matter. He wont even bag stuff for customers when she is cashing their items in.

Not that she is mentally complaining, heck no.

“Miss Casey, the boss wants to see you…” Marissa mutters moments after she walks in.

Crap.

Casey starts racking her brain on what she could have messed up on, but nothing surfaces. She does her routine work with a smile on her face, telling fish to “come again!” and “have a nice day!”, blah blahdy blah. Does everything she’s supposed to without a single complaint and even covers for Assface Fish, or Joey in other words, with a closed mouth.

What could Boss Fish possibly want?

His office is small, hidden and absolutely barren of any type of color. It’s like a creepy hospital room in a scary movie. A picture of his wife and daughter sits on his desk in a plain black picture frame. Their dark eyes are piercing and their overly perky smiles spread on lightly tan countenances. They appear way too perfect and way too disturbing for Casey’s taste.

Casey makes herself as comfortable as possible on a gray plastic chair which is positioned flawlessly so it looks like they’re staring directly at her.

She feels like it’s Judgement Day and Mr. Morrison is the Almighty Fish.

“So, I’ve gotten a few complaints you’ve been harassing a certain employee…” His plump fingers tap rhythmically on a small stack of papers resting on the desk he‘s sitting behind. A pencil is pressed thoughtfully to his chin as he stares intensly at Casey.

“I-”

“I know that pencil-dick of a jackass is lying! I know it!” Mr. Morrison explodes. Standing up, he begins pacing back and forth, his hands gripped tightly behind his back. His thin black hair is in shambles and small beads of sweat start sprouting up on his forehead.

“Pencil-dick?”

“My daughter Samantha told me,” He grunts in exasperation, clearly disgusted that his daughter would sleep with a slime-ball like Joey Young.

Casey struggles not to laugh, poor Mr. Morrison.

“You’ve been a good employee of Quik Stop for two years now. It would make no sense if you suddenly began acting up! Stupid, stupid shithead, assface… pencil-dick!”

Pressing her hands together on her lap, Casey bites her lip viciously. Even then, the pain is hardly enough to contain the laughter.

“You are pardoned, Miss Wolton. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Boss Fish waves his hand dismissively as he wipes his brow and upper lip with a kerchief.

“Thank you, sir,” Casey murmurs, bowing slightly as she briskly walks out of the room. She bursts out laughing once she manages her way in the storage room, knowing she is alone, and some what sound-proofed, to do so.