McCarthy & Connie: CIKTC

It had been a long day for McCarthy, a long, long day. It always felt like his shift would just never end, the hours, minutes, and seconds all each dragging on for what felt like infinity. Except, infinity cannot actually be properly comprehended by the human mind. Therefore, it just felt like forever, to say the least. McCarthy was tired.

Whilst waiting for the clock to hit 10PM, McCarthy had already dozed off. Despite wishing to get home as soon as possible, he'd accidentally sabotaged himself. McCarthy had a family waiting at home for him, even if all the endless waiting and waiting and waiting that everyone was doing began to feel like a useless waste of time. At least, especially for McCarthy's wife.

Connie often gave up on waiting for her husband to return home from work, even if she didn't like when he stayed out past curfew. She'd already put her daughter to bed since, like any reasonable parent would think, 10PM was far too late for a little child like her to be awake. Ellie was always full of energy and wanted to stay awake longer than she was allowed to by her mother. It could have been taken as her wanting more playtime, sure. But in reality, she just really wanted to see her papa.

A dark creature, McCarthy's coworker Monty, came to the bac after 20ish minutes of him having fallen asleep at the embalming table. He watched McCarthy sleep with his head directly planted onto the cold, sleek surface which held the results of death. Death in of itself was a result. One which each and every one of these employees were all too familiar with.

One which, for McCarthy in particular, was something his future self could have told him would be all too much of a reoccurring theme in his life. The irony could be found in such a thing.

Monty realized that McCarthy must have fallen asleep, in the most literal sense of the phrase. He grabbed the man by the shoulder and then shook it, awaking him. "Hello. You might not want to sleep there. You...understand what it is for?"

McCarthy sat up, his face covered in germs and some sweaty fluid from his own pores. All of the fur on his head was messily scuffed up, and after a few seconds of getting his eyes to open he finally reacted to what he'd actually done.

That was disgusting! Being at a point in his life when he actually still cared about germs and hygiene, the urge to get home and shower was immense.

He cringed, wiping his oily face off with the back of his hand. He looked at all of the grease it had left on it, finding this considerably more disgusting. Then he saw his watch. It was 10:34. Goddamnit. McCarthy was always trying his best to just leave on time but clearly that was to no avail. Or he just wasn't trying hard enough. That could be shrugged off as his tiredness though. Oh well. Time to head home late and discover whether or not his wife was still up. Luckily it wasn't too horrifically late.

Exhausted, he wished to offer Monty a thankful smile but couldn't conjure one up. "Thanks," he said nonchalantly, nodding towards him just as slowly as he'd nodded off to sleep a bit earlier. He was more or less met with a shrug. All of the relationships he had with his coworkers were so damn shallow. Everyone was so prudish towards showing even the slightest bit of compassion towards one another. Personal affairs weren't really the best workplace topic of conversation so McCarthy just followed suit. The unspoken social rules of the mortuary, he supposed.

In short, McCarthy clocked out, gathered his things, and then got into his small, tan and brown 1970's Station Wagon. To say that he prized his car would be an understatement though. However, he and Connie shared it. She didn't go anywhere while he was at work. She was always taking care of Ellie and routinely left to go grocery shopping on the weekends on McCarthy's days off. Sometimes there were special sale deals on the days he was using the car for work. Who had the money for two cars anyway? Well, they were on the oath to achieving that, but as of now they were trying their best to mutually save up for other important matters. McCarthy honestly spent most of the remaining disposable cash he was free to use for himself at the bar. The same place he admittedly really wanted to go to now instead of home, which felt shameful to admit but it was true. He admitted it to himself and gripped the wide steering wheel. He was so tired he didn't even want to drive. No one wanted to be a mortician. It was an odd job that came to him in the river of life. That river was dull, murky, and swampy, and almost positively filled with flesh-eating bacteria. It was all traumatic, eating away slowly at him.

Today was one of those days where Connie was feeling rather disappointed about missing the opportunity to use some of her coupons at the grocery. She had longed for her husband to just get home, but by the time he finally did she had dozed off on the couch watching a crime documentary. McCarthy returned home and unlocked the front door using the house key hidden underneath the doormat that cheerily read, Welcome! It always felt like a smug taunting.

Slowly unlocking the front door, McCarthy was met with the sight of Connie having fallen asleep at the sofa. He peered towards the TV being the only object illuminating the entire room. He looked back to Connie's soft face and sighed. Gently laying a blanket over her first, he went to turn the TV down a bit so if the show got loud she wouldn't be unpleasantly awoken.

Famished, McCarthy hadn't eaten since lunch so he disappeared into the kitchen looking for something to eat. It was like he couldn't ever escape being starved. It was a mixture between the struggles of having Irritable Bowel Syndrome and a shitty diet.

He turned on the dimmer light of the kitchen and then peered inside the refrigerator, scavenging for something, anything!

But as usual, it was really just leftovers or ingredients to make things it was too late to fuck with. He got home too late to really eat anything Connie made for dinner while it was still its freshest. So he grabbed the container of leftover macaroni & cheese with chicken she had seemingly made for herself and Ellie. Well, it wasn't in there yesterday. In McCarthy's informed opinion, Connie ate like a rabbit despite having horns. She was certainly thinner than him, but not too skinny. He was certainly attracted to her. In comparison he looked like he had enough blubber to feed the two of them, yet, here he was warming up scraps in the microwave. McCarthy didn't have time to cook with his own ways, he was a painfully accurate perfectionist. In simple terms it would take him too long.

He sat down at the table with his microwaved meal and had began to eat with a fresh beer from the fridge before his wife appeared in the doorway looking sleepy. She yawned, politely covering her agape mouth with her hand before approaching her husband. He looked at her and wanted to offer a smile, but couldn't conjure one up. He swallowed some of his mac & cheese and then nodded. "It's really good."