Hate and Switch

Hate walked into the bar, exhausted and needing a drink. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed Love sitting on a stool by herself at the corner farthest from the door. Her shoes were off and her naked feet kicked peanut shells back and forth on the dirty floor. She drained a large highball in one swallow and motioned to the hunchbacked bartender for another. Hate tried to duck back out before she noticed him, but was blocked by a large mumbling party of Apathies that oozed into the bar like melting wax. The buzzing drew her attention. She looked up and saw Hate smiling sheepishly, standing in the doorway, and groaned. Discovered, he walked over.

   “Hello, Love.”

   “Christ! Not you again. Didn’t we have an agreement to stay out of each other’s hair?”

   “I just needed a little break.”

   “Look, we agreed. You get run of the place at night, and I get it during the day.”

   “Yeah, but…”

   “Yeah, but nothing! This is the third time this week, Hate. What is wrong with you?”

   “I need a breather. I’m tired.”

   “You’re tired?! Do you have any idea how tiring my job is?!”

   “I’m sure it’s very hard.”

Love took another big swallow from the freshly refilled glass sweating on the bar and then spat an ice cube back into it. She forced a laugh.

   “You’re damn right it’s hard… Especially having to undo your handy-work!”

Hate remained silent as he cast his eyes down at the floor to avoid Love’s glare. A cockroach scurried across the floor and over the peanut shells near her left foot. He noticed that the black polish on her toes was chipping.

   “My job’s hard too, Love.”

   “My job’s hard too, Love.”

   “I’m serious.”

   “I’m serious.”

Hate looked at her and sighed. Her face was screwed into a scornful pout, mocking him. He studied her puckered face as she glowered at him.

            She was beautiful, once. Radiant and flawless. Young. Alluring. Anyone who was lucky enough to discover Love was immediately gob-smacked- blithering, babbling, doddering. She reveled in it. They wanted her. Wanted all her time and all her attention. And she gave it… when she was young and strong and could. Alas, Love changed as she grew older. She couldn’t keep up. Love was stretched to her limits. She was drained. Love felt empty. She’d plead to Desire and Lust to cover her shifts (after all she’d gone to orientation with both of them and they knew about 75% of her job) but that always ended badly and soon Hate would be called in. She started skipping out. The few appointments she’d kept, she sleep-walked through. Love never lasted long. She soon stopped caring and was filled with Scorn… who was a bad influence on her. She dyed her crimson hair jet black and put it up in pigtails on top of her head, like horns. She started wearing vinyl and leather, studded chokers, torn fishnets and long black streaks of eyeliner. Love blasted Atari Teenage Riot, Einstürzende Neubauten and Venetian Snares on the portable iPod speakers that she strapped to her belt, specifically to freak people out.

            People feared her. Then they stopped believing in Love, or rather, stopped believing that Love mattered. Which was all fine and well with her. They could all suck it as far as she was concerned. Well, some very important eyebrows were raised, and the Director called her in and thoroughly chewed her out; warning her, in very explicit terms, that she had better get her act together or he was going to demote her to Longing, part-time, and she would lose all her benefits. The threat was enough to elicit exemplary work… for about 3 weeks. But when the Director was caught having an affair with the receptionist in Billing and was busted down to the swing shift in Limbo, Love regressed; going through the motions and slogging through the day. It helped a bit to get tipsy before her shifts… soused after… and soon, during. Punch drunk Love. It broke Hate’s heart. It did, however, make his job easier. Though it kept him very, very busy. Even the Apathies put in double overtime.

           

   “You just gonna stand there and stare at me all day?”

   “Sorry.”

Hate motioned the stooped bartender over and scooped a handful of peanuts out of the bowl on the bar. He cracked the shell of one and popped the contents into his mouth but then spat the stale nuts onto the floor.

   “Jeez. How long have these been sitting here?”

The bartender fixed him with an impatient eye, then barked.

   “Whaddya want?”

   “Midori Sour. Double shot please.”

Love belched out a snarky laugh.

   “Wow. You really are all man, aren’t you?”

He ignored her and tipped the bowl, sweeping the stale peanuts off the bar onto the floor. Then he downed the cocktail the bartender set in front of him.

   “Barkeep.”

Hate gestured to the bartender for a second.

   “Easy now, tiger. Think of your liver.”

He ignored the mocking again.

   “What are you drinking?”

   “I can buy my own damn drinks, thank you!”

   “Just trying to be friendly.”

   “That’s rich! Hate’s trying to be friendly.”

   “I think you’ll find that off the clock, I’m quite agreeable.”

   “And I think you’ll find that you’re not off the clock yet.”

   “Touché.”

            The lights in the bar went dim and then flickered as the front door opened and a tall thin shadow appeared in the doorway. Hate lifted his second cocktail to his lips and puckered as Love grabbed Hate’s hips and yanked his body closer to her, spilling half the contents of his drink over his shirt and shoes.

   “Hey!”

   “Shut up!”

   “These are suede shoes!”

   “Shut up!”

She quickly bent her knees to her chest and rested her feet on top of her barstool; pulling on Hate’s left hip and pushing on his right so that he was facing the door and obscuring her behind him.

   “What are you doing?”

Love hissed at him.

   “Just keep quiet!”

Death entered the room. He was a giant in black, bending down so as not to hit his head on the naked bulbs that hung three feet below the rafters. He walked up to the bar and called the bartender over.

   “Virgin margarita, please. Blended.”

The bartender scowled.

   “Why don’t you just go to 7/11 and get yourself a Slushie?”

Death frowned at the bartender and made a loud, low guttural noise. Everyone immediately fell silent and nervously turned towards the bar as their glasses danced on the tabletops.

   “Alright. Alright.”

Death laid his five bucks on the counter and reached for some peanuts from another bowl on the bar.

   “I wouldn’t eat those. They’re all stale.”

   “Hi, Hate! I didn’t see you there.”

He extended his hand for Hate to shake, but Hate demurred.

   “C’mon Death.”

Death withdrew his hand.

   “Sorry. I forget sometimes.”

   “S’okay. How’s business?”

   “Brisk. Too brisk. I’ve been pulling major overtime all week and I’m exhausted. I need to cash in some floating holidays and get away. How’re you doin’?”

   “About the same. I’ve used up all my floaters and most of my vacation, so I drop in here from time to time for a breather.”

   “Better busy than out of a job, huh?”

   “Yeah.”

The bartender hobbled over with Death’s margarita and set it on the bar. Death removed the wedge of lime that perched on the lip of the glass and placed it on the bar. It turned black and shriveled in on itself.

   “Good talking to you, Hate.”

   “Same to you. Say hi to… uh…”

Hate realized mid-sentence that Death was a bachelor and lived alone.

   “Take care, man.”

   “You too, buddy.”

Death leaned forward and looked down over Hate’s head.

   “Bye Love.”

Love straightened up behind Hate and waved to Death.

   “Oh, hi! Sorry, I lost a contact and didn’t see you standing there. Ah! There it is!”

Love pretended to scoop up an errant contact lens from the lapel of her blouse and pop it back into her eye.

   “‘Love is blind’ makes for a pithy adage, but it ain’t very practical.”

She giggled nervously.

“Good to see you again Love.”

With that, Death picked up his margarita and walked over to an empty table in a dark corner of the bar, next to the broken Arcade Quiz Games, and sat down.

   “What was that all about?”

   “Nothing!”

   “No. That was definitely something.”

   “Ugh… We dated.”

   “You dated?!”

   “Yeah. So?”

   “So? It’s verboten. He’s upper management.”

Love rolled her eyes and clucked her annoyance. Hate slapped his forehead.

   “Oh crap! He’s upper management.”

   “So what?!”

   “He saw me hanging out in a bar on the clock. Shit! I’m cooked! You too!”

   “Relax. He’s not going to say anything. He’s decent… he’s actually a really nice guy.”

   “If he’s so nice and decent, why aren’t you still dating?”

   “Because he’s boring as Sin.”

   “I’ve hung out with Sin. She’s anything but boring.”

   “You know what I mean. He’s as boring as he is nice. As dull as he is considerate.”

   “How’d you two hook up?”

   “I would meet him a few times a week after work.”

   “For what?”

   “Referrals.”

   “Referrals?”

Love sighed, impatiently.

   “When my assignments were mishandled by those two clucking chicken-heads who’d fill in for me…”

   “You mean the two who covered your ass?”

 “Are you going to let me finish?”

   “Sorry. Go ahead.”

   “Anyway… A lot of those lovelorn whiners wished for Death. So I figured I’d give him a call and hand him a number of referrals each week.”

   “So it wasn’t because you caught Scorn and Rumor in bed together?”

   “What? No…… How’d you hear about that?”

   “Rumor gets around.”

   “I’ll bet she does. Skank!”

   “Sorry. I interrupted again. Go on.”

   “Death was sweet… and grateful. He took me to dinners and bought me drinks. The more we hung out after work, the more preoccupied I became with Death. No one really knew anything about him. Except for a wave here, a smile there and a ‘nice to see you’, he usually kept to himself. The mystery of Death started to intrigue me. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he was tall, dark and thin and still had all his hair. I found him kind of sexy.”

   “He is quite the looker.”

   “I’ll slip him your number.”

   “I don’t swing that way.”

   “Not what I heard… I needed a thrill; something new and a little dangerous to get my mind off the mind numbing work, so I asked him out. We dated for a time, but that thrill never came. The man was as exhilarating as a tea leaf. It grew old fast. Real fast. I couldn’t take anymore museum dates, afternoon hikes or another night of jigsaw puzzles and spiced cider. He listened to Steely Dan and Air Supply records non-stop! It drove me nuts! One day, while he was taking a shower, I went through his stuff to see if he was hiding some kinky or titillating side from me. I found his diary stuffed between his mattresses and read it.”

   “I would have lost money on him sleeping in a coffin.”

   “Are you gonna keep interrupting me?! Tell me now and I’ll save my breath!”

   “Sorry.”

   “Seriously! You’re on my last frayed nerve!”

   “Sorry. I promise. Not another word out of turn.”

Love scowled at Hate for a hot minute…

   “I found his diary and read it. It was all names and dates. Nothing juicy or even halfway interesting. Just names and dates… That was it. I ran out the door while he was still in the shower singing ‘All Out Of Love’.”

Deciding against pointing out the obvious irony, Hate kept his mouth shut for fear of incurring Love’s wrath. The logistics of their relationship puzzled him, seeing as Death was clearly not someone you could run up to and hug, but he didn’t dare ask. A pregnant silence passed before Hate cleared his throat.

   “That’s it?”

Love shot daggers at Hate through her squinted eyes and swung around on her barstool, turning her back to him. She called the bartender over to order another drink.

   “Why are you such a… spiteful… cow?”

Hate immediately regretted his choice of words as Love swung around violently on her stool, kicking him hard in the knee.

   “Ow!”

   “You do this job and see what it does to you!”

Hate rubbed his knee as Love’s spittle flew into his face.

   “You think my job is duck soup?”

   “A trained monkey, can do what you do, Hate.”

   “Zat so? You try being the patsy for all the friction and conflict and hostilities in the world. You think I don’t take any of that anxiety home with me? I’m tired of all that corrosive negativity.”

   “Poor baby… YOU try having the fate of the world on your shoulders!”

   “Oh give me a break, Love! That’s a little self-important, isn’t it? The fate of the world on your shoulders?”

   “Yes!!”

   “What does the fate of the world have to do with you? Despite the cheesy lyrics on Death’s mixtape, Love does not make the world go ‘round?”

   “You think Hate does?!”

   “I know it doesn’t. Thank God…”

   “Hey!!”

The bartender slammed his large meaty palm on the top of the bar with a loud bang. Everyone jumped in their seats except Death, who was listening to adult-contemporary through his ear buds and doing a crossword puzzle he ripped out of the newspaper that morning. A bottle fell off the counter and smashed on the concrete floor with a loud crash.

   “How many times have I told you? I don’t want to hear that name in my bar!”

   “Sorry. Sheesh!”

   “Just one more time, Hate, and I’m throwing you out those doors, headfirst.”

   “Okay, okay… It wasn’t me that bent your spine, ok?”

The scowling bartender closed one eye and pointed a finger at Hate, but said nothing. Everyone returned to their conversations as the bartender pushed past Love and Hate to sweep the broken glass into a dustpan. Love swiveled her stool around and turned her back on Hate again. She lit a cigarette under the ‘No Smoking’ sign, took a long drag and exhaled with a sharp sigh. She nursed her drink between puffs of her cigarette, which she smoked down to the filter, before she spoke again…

  

   “What makes the world go ‘round?”

   “Huh?”

   “What makes the world go ‘round?”

   “Fear.”

   “Fear?”
   “Yup.”

   “That knuckle dragger? Are you kidding me?”

   “Nope. He make’s the world go round. We’ve paired up many times. I’ve seen him work. The guy is a machine. Fear is an amazing motivator.”

   “How does that ogre make the world go ‘round?”

   “You know better than most how Fear can rule a man’s heart, Love. He’s insidious. Fear wriggles into the heart and the mind and takes root, either paralyzing change or catalyzing destruction. He keeps man from happiness and sends him rushing headlong into mediocrity, or worse. He’s the arbiter of the status quo.”

   “And also the genitor of loneliness.”

   “Yeah. He’s got many talents.”

   “What about those with no fear?”

   “Everyone fears something.”

   “But what about those who aren’t ruled by fear?”

   “What about those who aren’t ruled by love, joy, sadness, hate, anger, jealousy, shame? You do what you can, you punch the clock and you collect your paycheck.”

   “Well, I can’t do it anymore, Hate. I can’t… I can’t… I… HATE this job.”

   “I’d gladly do your’s over mine.”

   “You couldn’t handle it.”

   “I think I could.”

   “It’s yours then.”

   “What?”

   “It’s a-l-l yours. Take it.”

   “Really?!”

   “Yes, really. I’m so done with it.”

   “And what’ll you do?”

   “I don’t know. Maybe Reiki. There are classes at the Learning Annex.”

   “Uh… why don’t you take my job? I think you have the right attitude for it. We’ll switch.”

   “Management would never go for it. That new director is strictly by the book.”

   “Don’t worry about him. He and I go way back. I used to play drums in his band in college. He’ll approve it.”

   “Ok, then.”

   “Great! I’ll have Obsession drop off the handbook of statutory codes and guidelines.”

   “Who?”

   “My… I mean your, new intern. She’s a little thick, but she means well. She’s also the Chairman’s niece. Just so you know.”

   “Great…”

            “Barkeep! Another sour and a… What’re you drinking, Love?…”