Sometimes You Forget To Punch Out

I won't tell ya that Chuck was the meanest motherfucker,
but he was pretty goddamn mean.

Last customers gone,
my personal iPod hooked up to the house speakers,
and Chuck walked in.

He left me alone about the drink at my hand,
he left me alone about the music that was playing,
but he didn't leave me alone for very long.

Shortly after heading to the basement-office,
he came back up stairs.

He asked me,
“What Daniel are you?”

Everyone else called me Danny;
“Daniel” referred to another waiter;
but Chuck went by the w-2,
and only told us apart by last name.

“Price,”
I said.

“Oh,”
he responded
“it's the other idiot I'm looking for,”
and began to walk away again.

Then
he came back.

“But You're the idiot that keeps forgetting to punch out,”
he screamed,
and I cringed.

As he continued to denigrate me for the next minute and some seconds,
I contemplated murdering him.
But Chuck could not be killed.
People tried.

Pushed him down the stairs of the restaurant,
shot him,
pushed him down the stairs, again.

The fucker was invincible!

So I apologized,
and said,
“Yes, sir,
I'll make sure to punch out,
from now on.”

“Good!”
he exclaimed.

Still not enough of a victory for Chuck,
as he walked away for the last time, he added,
“Ya punch-in, ya punch-out,
ya fuckin' moron!”