Prompt 3: Ventriloquy Writing, Janice, FPS
Shit… what’s his name? How do I not remember his name? Brad? Benji… Bowen? God, that’s so embarrassing. 5 months here and I don’t know the name of the only dude who works Monday midnight shift with me. Jesus. Moments like these make me think I could make more of an effort at work-- be more of a “team player”, or whatever WorldMart told us to call ourselves during training. But then I watch our manager get in his car and hotbox for so long that the smoke practically turns opaque, and I think I might actually be the most involved employee here. I mean, aside from Brock. Brian. Shit. Anyway, Blake just pulled a finger from his pocket- Has he been holding onto that?- and the zombie across from us is motioning for him to hand it over. Look: I’m not jealous of a dead woman. That’d be pathetic. But Bryce and the zombie are like, flirting right now? She’s asking him to choose between an orange or red skirt for tonight and sweet, stupid Billy is telling her she’d look pretty in orange even t