Before I found out that the University of Florida didn’t know I even existed and I was working at the grocery store, I had a very chill job at a small entry point to the large state park that stretches across about half of the unincorporated territory to the north of us (that we’re technically part of, according to the rest of the world).

Basically, I’d stand in a small hut and wait for people to drive up. If they had a certain license plate, they could get into the state park for free. If not, then they had to pay around five bucks for parking and I’d give them a little ticket to put on their dashboard. This was about a year before shit hit the fan for Rick and he became totally reclusive, so he helped pull some strings to allow me to get the job, as I wasn’t due to be eighteen until September.

Now there are definitely some stories I could tell you about this job. For example, there’s a bear-humanoid hybrid that hunts campers for sport, but is only active from around Memorial Day to around the time our high school graduation commences. I was off the day that he mauled his last victims of the year (for my graduation, actually), so I didn’t have to clean up any body parts.

But this story is not about the bear-humanoid hybrid that stalks campers, nor any of the other monsters in this park. It’s not about the alien abduction in which a man came back with ears for genitalia, or about the sinkhole that opened up that supposedly takes you to another universe where flying cars do exist.

This is about the payphone.

For some ridiculous reason, the park still has a payphone. It’s located right across from my little hut where I’d spend about ten percent of the time letting people into the park and ninety percent of my time Facebook stalking my classmates.

I worked at that park for almost six months, and only once did I ever see someone use that payphone. It was an elderly woman who probably didn’t know what a cell phone is, let alone how to use one.

However, that phone became a very interesting point in my life one rainy and foggy July afternoon.

Next Chapter: 05