The Summoner Chapter One

The heat was so intense I decided living under a bridge was better than standing in the sun and being cooked alive like cheap meat on a barbecue.

If the heatwave had arrived two days earlier, I would’ve been in my air-conditioned room playing games on my computer. I would’ve skipped work because it was hot and the warehouse had no cooling at all. Unless you counted the roof fans, which didn’t cool anything. They just pushed hot air around until the whole place felt like a fan-baked oven from hell.

Not that I blamed them for firing me.

I admit to being a below-average worker. I’m also not all that smart, and I disliked people. 

People disliked me too, so at least that’s fair.

Being alone was my preferred level of company anyway, so it didn’t matter much what anyone thought of me.

This line of thinking was probably why my work “mate” told the manager I’d stolen some food.

That annoyed me, because I’d caught the same ass wipe stealing food the week before.

He looked horrified when I caught him.

“Shaun, please don’t tell anyone.”

I didn’t tell anyone. 

Why would I? 

I didn’t care.

But seeing him steal the food planted an idea in my head.

Why buy lunch when you can steal it?

So I did.

And the first time I did it, ass wipe thief nark caught me.

“Mate,” I said, “don’t tell anyone.”

Maybe I should’ve said please.

Later that day, ass wipe thief nark got called to the office. Twenty minutes later, he was escorted off the premises.

Then I was called in.

The manager sat behind his desk with that serious manager face they all get when they are about to ruin your life and pretend it’s just business.

“We’ve been advised that you stole some food,” he said. “We checked the cameras, and it was recorded. Effective immediately, you’re dismissed from your job.”

The thing that annoyed me most was that I hadn’t told anyone about ass wipe thief nark stealing the food.

Someone else had done it.

So I got fired for copying a crime committed by a bloke who had already been fired for the same crime.

That seemed unfair, but apparently fairness was not part of the warehouse policy.

I went home, locked the door, and started playing my favourite virtual reality game, Defenders of Krondor.

For a while, everything was fine.

Then the landlady knocked on my door and asked for next week’s rent.

That was when I discovered spending every cent, every week, had a downside.

No money in the bank plus no income equals no roof.

I stalled for as long as I could. I believed that if I didn’t think about the problem, the problem might get bored and go away.

It did not.

I was removed, rather indignantly, by a large man with large hands. I was allowed to gather my belongings, which was nice of them, I suppose, in the way letting someone choose which of their ribs gets broken first is nice.

I dragged the good stuff to the second-hand place down the road and sold everything except my clothes, a bag, and some blankets.

Then the heat came.

And somehow, that still wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me that week.