mojo, Issue 01

He purchased a body-building kit from the Male Fitness Department. His muscles began to stretch the cotton fibers of his official company smock, and he memorized every paragraph in the Omni-Mart Manual of Conduct and Procedures. If I’d known then that he was going to grow up to be the size of a truck and become District Manager, I probably would have filed the 560G and had his scrawny sixteen-year-old butt fired on the spot. But foresight has never been my strong suit.

Barry has never mentioned the peeing-in-his-pants incident, but I know he resents me for it and enjoys making me grovel. I have learned to live with the humiliation because, quite honestly, what other choice do I have? It’s either this or The Outside, and no one wants to be on The Outside these days. So I deal with it the best way I know how. Barry says clean the toilets and I clean the toilets. Barry says destroy the babies and I destroy the babies.

• • • By the time Omni-Mart officially opens, I have terminated all the InstaBabies except one, a quiet, moon-faced child who is now approximately three years old. The label on the box says his name is Peter. When I approach Peter with the key, he does not run or cry. Instead, he reaches for me with pudgy hands and says, “Daddy.”

Now, I am not a sentimental fool. I know this is not a real human child; this is just an extremely sophisticated toy that will turn to dust in less than eighteen hours. On the other hand, I am a very lonely man. I am forty-two years old and I do not have a family. My parents were poor and, as is often the case in these types of situations, I was officially adopted by Omni-Mart, Inc. shortly after I was born. I have spent my entire life inside these walls. I am not complaining.

These are tough times and I am lucky to have this kind of job security. I sleep in the Linens & Beddings Department and I have a substantial 401(k) plan. I sweep, I dust, I stock shelves.

But sometimes I feel there should be more to life than this. I do not know what “more” would involve. After all, I have food, shelter, and satellite television. Omni-Mart carries every manmade product on the planet. I want for nothing. And yet, there is a yearning deep down in my chest late at night, like a fist squeezing my heart, and sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat.