The Kids From Yesterday

I leaned against the desk, looking at the wall behind it and all the posters on it. Guns 'N' Roses, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Misfits, Iron Maiden, Bowie ... God I loved working here. And not because it was well paid. I just liked being around all the different records and instruments. I was currently working on my singing, and was taking guitar lessons. I was okay at it. My playing was at least mediocre, but I couldn't sing and play without accidentally singing the notes the guitar was playing. So I always practised them seperately. I was better at singing though.
This was my third week here so far. We got about five customers a day. Which was okay, I guess. Well, actually, no, it wasn't. Not really. But I still got paid six bucks an hour. Which was good pay, especially around Belleville. I turned back around and was deeply satisfied by how neatly everything was organised. The back room was where we kept most the intruments, but we put some out here too. The first room of the shop was one big rectangle. The door was at the far left of the shop, and a couple of meteres away when you walked in was the counter. Along the left wall next to the door was one big shelf of CDs, reaching all the way over to the desk. Not a single record was out of place. Then, on the right of the door, the space was filled with instruments.
"Hey Gerard," the manager said as he emerged from the door behind me. His voice was gruff and deep as he was middle-aged. He was short, bald and had a white moustache. He was quite round too.
"Hi. Today's been better than usual."
"Oh yeah?" He grunted. "How many customers."
"Maybe fifteen?"
"Fifteen?" I could tell he surprised. If he had any hair, his eyebrows would be in it. "Wow. That sure is an improvement. Looked like your posters worked, Gerard. I might have to give you a little pay rise."
"Oh you don't have to do that sir." Yes, please do.
"No, I want to. We sure have gotten a lot more buisness since you arrived." Hah. Most of them were girls trying to get my number. However, I was very persuasive, and convinced each of them to buy an album every time a group entered. "Anywho, it's the end of your shift. You can go now."
"Do you need any help closing up?"
"Nah. Just go home kid. It'll be quicker if you're not getting in my way."
i chuckled quietly as I left. The bus stop wasn't far from here. Across the street, in fact. I was fresh out of highscool, and couldn't afford a college education. So here I was, working six hour shifts to save up for it. Mom and Dad offered to help me, but I refused their help. We were broke anyway. I conviced them I'd rather get the money myself, as life experience. They'd agreed, but reluctantly.

It was about fifteen minutes before the bus finally arrived. Jeez, it was cold. I sat at the bus stop, my scarf wrapped around my neck as many times as possible, listening to my mp3 player. There was some old lady sitting next to me, and I heard her tutting at my music choice. The Misfits. Sigh. Old people. Always judging us.
The bus pulled up three and a half songs later. I gratefully clambered on, bought a ticket, sat at the back and plugged in my earphones to block out the sound of chatter from all around.

The nearest bus stop to my house was two blocks away. I rubbed my hands together and made it to my large yet shabby house without freezing to death. Thank god, I thought as I entered the warmth of our house.
"I'm home!" I called down the long corridor.

Notes

So my friend was having a go at me for not being able to come up with anything myself, because I always use other peoples comebacks, so i used my other fanfic, The Kids From Yesterday, as evidence that I can come up with stuff (you should go check it out XO) and she was like "its probably not original". Even though me and our other friend have pretty much wrote a whole song on guitar, drums and were now writing lyrics, but whatever. So um writing this as a sort of "fuck you" to her. If she ever comes across this, XXX