Excerpt: The Misadventures of Sharky Sam

“They say he takes hard hits to the vein of pure mescaline and battery acid. Worker's down at the factory see him do it every morning... from the fucking batteries that run the lifts. His bosses' won't say shit because it's so fucking terrifying. They say he shakes like a man possessed. The trash can syringes are all eaten through and burned and shit...” the younger worker says as he lights up cigarette number three and grins.

“You kids these day...believe everything.” The older man said again as he turned his back to them for a moment as an errant stray of his silver hair brushed across his gaze.

“Why don't they fire him?” Janos asked as he ignored the old man's comment.

“Fire him?...Shit... Sharky Sam? For as bad ass as he is, and fucking weird, he's good at what he does. They found an old 1979 General Motors Industry Truck at the military surplus auction last year... engine was fucked to hell and it wouldn't run. But those things were fucking Diesel, with a fucking capital D... hit with soviet rockets back in the day and ran without a hitch... They say the parts for the engine and such were rusted and busted to shit, weren't made anymore... for laughs, Sharky Sam there went to the machine shop, and without any designs, made those damn parts from scratch out of good old scrap steel. That truck goes up and down this street every damn morning...” the younger worker said as he exhales a cloud that is carried skyward.

“Now that I have seen. Comes by here, growling like a fucking boar.” the older worker said, admittedly.

“That's all well and good...but why does he come here?...our product isn't...that...amazing. Shit...shift starts now... I'll be seeing you.” Janos says as he flicks his shoulder, checks his watch, then starts wandering back towards the door to get back to work.