"S.J" Chapter 04 — The Evil Empires
Once an isolated warehouse, cut off by railroad tracks and a highway, The Fallout Shelter was enjoying its seventh year of success as a bar and a nightclub, weather permitting. Derek, the owner and manager, began having a problem with what to do with all the revenue. This situation fell firmly in the category of ‘problems we like‘—we being himself along with his new wife Amy who he put to work in the new coffee shop that they built on the edge of their parking lot. Now, in addition to bartending at The Fallout Shelter, Amy ran “The Evil Empires.”
Most coffee shops put their logo on their mugs and glasses, which just begs you to steal them. Some call it, ‘base level advertising.’ Consumers get to feel like they’re getting something extra for their money by taking them. The overpriced java helps them rationalize this theft. Nobody steals the mugs from The Evil Empires, though. This is the home of Westchester County’s largest collection of stolen corporate merchandise. “Mega corporations are destroying America!” Amy said out loud as she spun in a stool at the counter. “I know this because it’s displayed prominently on a sign on the wall behind the counter,” which made her giggle as she tried to point to it with every revolution. To nobody in particular, she continued her monologue, “Mega corporations are driving out mom and pop and making us one big homogenous McCustomer! Nowhere is this better displayed than inside this tiny oasis of counter-culture where all your favorite super chains are displayed against their will on pilfered items. Actually, the mega chains probably look at this anomaly as another advertising opportunity because nobody has ever come to collect the hot goods. The real question is, how can I turn this info into a commercial without getting busted for harboring stolen merchandise?” None of the few customers answered her rhetorical question but they did smile at the mild entertainment she was providing.
Amy sat on one of eight spin-able stools in front of the semi-circular counter. Behind her was a mostly glass storefront. Derek and Amy designed the layout after the poster Boulevard of Broken Dreams which also hung on the back wall—its neon counter accent matching the real one that Amy held on to. “James Dean, Humphrey Bogart, and Marilyn Monroe were rebels.” Amy added to the running commentary for the benefit of her barely listening customers. She wondered if copying their diner also made her appear rebellious or instead just another conformist? She pushed off from the counter to continue spinning her stool. They were well greased and now her body was spinning as fast as her mind.
“It’s awesome that Lindy is letting me write a song about this place,” Amy announced. How many restaurants have their own theme song?” “Well, Cheers in Boston does, even if it’s really The Bull and Finch. That’s what gave me this great idea.”
Amy stopped spinning and tried to write on a blank roll of register tape that had been sitting on the counter. Her words crossed the tape in a big arc as the room kept spinning even after she stopped. “These stools are addictive and getting dizzy is almost as much fun as getting drunk, but without the hangover,” she conceded. Nobody was trying to get her attention for refills or their bill, so she continued working on her rough draft of: The Evil Empires:
The Evil Empires
on the edge of the lot
Where not just the coffee
But the mug is also hot
Come on in
Take a stool for a spin
We don’t care
What shape you’re in
Stay until you’re sober
Or your ride home arrives
We’ll keep you company
So you get home alive
Stuff stolen from everywhere
They have plenty more
These mega conglomerates
Aren’t mom and pop stores
Come on in
Take a stool for a spin
We don’t care
What shape you’re in
Stay until you’re sober
Or your ride home arrives
We’ll keep you company
So you get home alive
We feed the needs
Of The Fallout Shelter Crowd
With a 24 hour breakfast
That would make your mother proud
Come on in
Take a stool for a spin
We don’t care
What shape you’re in
Stay until you’re sober
Or your ride home arrives
We’ll keep you company
So you get home alive
