The Hi Life Suites and the Mangy Rats

The Hi Life Suites and the Mangy Rats

Secret World Entertainment                          Vasilika Vanya Marinkovic

Breanne was the assistant general manager of the Hi Life Suites Hotel and she planned on becoming general manager one day. Heck yeah. Uh, oh. Her heart began to race, a well-known hot guest and his group were arriving.

“Hi, welcome to the Hi Life Hotel. May I check you in?” Breanne’s voice quavered and she desperately hoped HE didn’t notice.

The fledgling internet rock star and his five entourage that accompanied him; his ho, manager, drummer, guitarist, and sexy sister were checking into a couple of the fanciest suites.

“Thank you doll,” said the rocker. It was J.C. Kristoffe of the band, “Poison Dragon.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” Breanne was about one hundred pounds overweight, dimply and twenty-six years old. But often people thought she was a bit older than her years. This had to do with her plethora of responsibilities, though people assured her.

Breanne turned to a couple of her subordinates and gushed, “Oh my God! He called me doll! Oh. That makes me feel so pretty!”

The young desk clerks, Suzy twenty-one years old and Tom, who was gay and just nineteen, smiled-phony smiles. To them, Breanne was like a hundred years old.

“Well, he was checking this out!” burst Tom, moving his slim and toned body around huskily, obnoxiously, like he was performing at a strip club’s VIP room.  

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear or see that!” said Breanne. Then she looked at Suzy; perfect, blonde, perky, thin, big breasts, bubbly and with blue eyes to boot.

“You’ve got platinum guest service to do right?” shot Breanne, trying to shuffle the cute young blonde the hell away from the area. She had no chance with her around.

“Yeah, I’m about to go up” said Suzy, head buried down into her smart phone. This scene was lame.

There was a stacked cart of miniature champagnes, wines, and beer bottles, along with cookies, chocolate bars and muffins and fancy hotel stationery thanking prized guests for their long-time business.

“Well, it’s four o’clock and guests will be getting back soon….

Breanne hated it when younger workers all but ignored her. She was only twenty-six for fucks sakes. What did that seem like according to the really young, ninety fuckin’ six! Screw those snot-nosed dimwits!

“I know. I’m just about ready” said Suzy, trying to hide her disgust at her over-weight boss, as she got out wine and champagne glasses and put them on the cart.

“Good”, said Breanne, still gushing. “Oh, I can’t believe J.C. Kristoffe thinks I’m a doll!” and with that, she walked off toward her office.

And as Suzy rolled her cart toward the elevators, she spoke under her breath.

“He doesn’t think you’re fucking doll. He just says that to everybody. You’re a fucking pig with huge pores on your face. By the time you’re forty, they’re going to be the size of the Grand Canyon, like your ass already is.”

Breanne paused outside of her office, tears streaming down her face. She’d heard it, all of it. One thing in life, instead of slimness that she’d always been blessed with, was her uncanny and powerful hearing ability. Suzy might as well have yelled all those nasty insults.

Tom had been born a bit of a sadist. He knew this, his family knew this, even his schools when he was a kid had known this, as he had always laughed in terrific terrible hysterical fits as bullies bullied the underdog kids. He’d been bullied too, though for being gay, but the day he realized by laughing at everyone else, no one was ever going to bother him again, is when Tom had risen his laughter, from general all the way up to hysterical. Nobody wanted to be under spectator status for this.

And in the present situation, he had seen and heard the interaction between Suzy and the tear gushing Breanne. And sadly, Tom enjoyed a huge rise, trying fiercely to contain his wicked laughter.  He watched Breanne at the door to her office, crying. All the drama, Tom’s chest rose in excitement. It was almost orgasmic, truth be told. He loved this kind of shit, pain in others. Oh, the precise timing, the skanky slut Suzy got into the elevator and Breanne pathetically crying.  Tom continued to suppress his laughter as Breanne failed miserably in stifling her bawling. Finally, she disappeared inside her office.

Now at last. Tom was able to laugh loudly, as customers nearby glanced curiously, wondering what the merriment was about. But as his laughter began to rise in loudness, he stifled it immediately as he saw Breanne self-consciously peeking through the blinds of her office.

Suzy grumbled as she placed a bottle of chianti and empty glass on the bedside table of “Mr. Rogers.” One of the hotels’ most loyal, long-time customers.

“Why the fuck should I be doing a job like this, when I can be a fucking runway model or Instagram star. This is some fucked shit. People should be bringing ME, treats and wine.”

And with that, she tossed five bonbons onto Mr. Rogers bed and left the room, onto the next.

“Like he even has anyone to fuck and share that shit with. Stupid.”

And in exiting, she flipped off the empty room, like that did any good. Or like it was going to help her to become an Instagram star.

A cluster of guests strolled through the hotel lobby on the way to the pool. Breanne’s crying drew concerned glances from a couple of them. “Is everything okay?” asked one good Samaritan from the lot, as he paused at the exit way.

“Everything is fine. Thank you for your concern. Enjoy your stay here. Have fun at the pool and please let us know if you need anything” said Andrew, another gay employee. He was tall, well built and in his early thirties. He’d just started his shift.

“Thank you.” The guest said and bowed out.

Andrew cornered Tom like a Tomcat about to pounce. “Why is Breanne crying and what the hell is so funny Tom? Are you being a sadist again in our grand hotel?!?” Sarcasm had dripped into the word grand.

“No, nothing’s funny!” said Tom, as he once again stifled his laughter and tended to a couple of forty something ladies sitting at the bar, by pouring them some more merlot. One of them gritted her teeth at Andrew, who stared apologetically at her. He hadn’t known Tom had customers at the bar. Then he proceeded to pull Tom away from the busy area to the check-in section of the hotel bar.

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to bend you over and stick my dick in your ass.”

The two ladies smirked as they sipped their wine, with one of them tossing hers back completely. Not far enough from the action Andrew rolled his eyes. Tom playfully shoved Andrew off, as he strode back over to the women-ever the perfect server, with Andrew right on his heels.

“I know you’ve always wanted me bitch. But you can’t have my beautiful pink asshole.”

The lady that still had wine in her glass sprayed the remaining gulp out of her mouth. With ease, Tom carefully avoided the spray, then casually filled both ladies’ wine glasses to the brim. He also brought out a carafe and poured this to the top, positioning it right in between them.

In another hotel suite, Suzy placed chocolate milk on the common room table and some cookies around it. Wine and chocolate had already been placed at bedside.

She was now in Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter’s room-and their son, five-year-old Cranton fuckin’ Jr.- undeserving fucking brat; commercial star of these ridiculous fuckin’ cereal commercials; making two hundred and fifty times more than the average asshole would ever make in their entire doomed dick life. Shit was so freaking ridiculous.

“Fuck me” said Suzy, getting a miniature bottle of vodka out. She then very delicately opened the chocolate milk carton destined for the five-year-old over paid actor bitch.   

“Let’s start your descent into the entertainment industry and resultant drug and alcohol addiction early, you mother fucking cereal bitch.”

She drank half of the chocolate milk, then poured the little vodka bottle inside the container. And sealed the milk carton with some Elmer’s glue the little snot had on a nearby shelf along with some crayons, two cellphones and a little game boy.

On to the next room. Oh, how she wished these long-standing uppity guests would just go get themselves lives and pick a better hotel.

Puffy eyed and a tear-stained face, Breanne came out to assist Tom and Andrew. It was 4:30pm now and a lot of guests were checking in.

“Honey, what’s the matter?” asked Andrew, placing his arm around Breanne and Tom rolled his eyes, walking to the bar to make some drinks for the guests.

“You need a drink” said Andrew, walking Breanne in the trail of Tom who flashed eyes over them bewildered.

“We’re working,” said Breanne.

“I don’t give a shit” said Andrew, snatching the Manhattan Tom had just prepared and giving it to Breanne, who hesitated. The guests, two ladies and an older gentlemen raised their brows.

“It’s against policy” Breanne said, tears threatening to resurface.

“Policy my dick,” said Andrew. “Drink this mother fucking thing and tell me what happened.”

“I’m really sorry.” Tom apologized to the guests.

“All your drinks and two more rounds will be on the house due to this inconvenience, this very sad spectacle” he assured them.

All the guests immediately ordered their next two rounds extremely excited, as Breanne’s tears streamed down her face in wicked dewy jelly droves.

She began to recant her entire sad afternoon, even the fact that her younger boyfriend last week had dumped her. All the guests awed and put on sad faces, one of them even proffering his newly poured drink, so Breanne could start on her second. And as Tom wiped down the counters, wondering why he was no longer laughing, Andrew put his arm around Breanne.

“Tell the guests what Suzy said that hurt you so badly.”

Horrified expressions and one woman crying as she’d had a similar experience at some point in her life. Tom picked up a waste basket and pretended to gag.

“You need to fire that young woman!” complained a now inebriated guest. “She was insensitive!”

“She was hostile!” countered another woman.

“Here” said Tom, pointing at a dark corner under the bar. “I have a better idea.” Then he motioned back and forth to the oncoming Suzy, who had just exited the elevator with her now empty rolling cart and the dark corner under the bar. Everyone heard the squeaking of rats, saw their different sizes, noticed their stench.

“Do it, do it!” cheered a drunk lady, as the older distinguished man, although very wealthy looking, put his thumb up.

“A thumb up from the man” noted Andrew. “I guess we’re good to go. Okay, Breanne, you’ve got your vengeance. Let’s get Suzy, next time we’ll take care of Tom’s sadism.”

“Hey, I’m redeeming myself now bitch.”

“Uh, yeah, not really” snorted Andrew back at him.

“Ladies quiet” quipped Breanne. “Let’s not miss the action. “Guests make sure to give us great reviews online despite this little mishap.”

Everyone responded to the affirmative, excitedly anticipating what was about to transpire. Breanne unhinged the gates from hell, the little aluminum encampment barring the hole under the bar wall; then hundreds of rats all clamored out, with many, many running out of the bar area, since guests had studiously picked up their drinks and small appetizer plates to ward the beats off. As this was, the rats had no other option but to run for Suzy and her cart, as she had crumbs on plates and wrappers and other waste, she’d collected from the hotel rooms. Rats climbed aboard her cart, but two ambitious peckers climbed Suzy on their way to the cart, but one went right for the chocolate milk stained to her lips. The young woman screamed at the top of her lungs, over and over and over again, running around in circles, smacking at the rats.

“Oh my God, oh my God, help me! Help! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah! Oh my God! HELP!” Suzy ran and tripped into a huge guest couch nearby with more rats following up onto her as they obviously were big fans of chocolate milk. The screaming ensued as many guests filmed the spectacle.

“Look son, this is what drugs and alcohol can lead to” assured a big dark-haired man, father of the infamous cereal bitch, five-year-old child actor. “Make sure you never start using. And only in moderation of alcohol when you’re old enough.”

“Okay Daddy, whatever you say. Can we get some chocolate milk?”

The End.

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