I’ve been working at the SunCoast for almost a year now, and this is what I know.

The girl who works at the Piercing Pagoda is in trouble. Her piercings are always raw and bloody, and she doesn’t seem to be healing at all. She’s started to wear long shirts, even though it’s July.

The woman who owns the Things Remembered told me she could help me forget things. I told her that I don’t have much money . . . she grinned and said that that’s not what she’s looking for.

The Barnes and Noble has started selling rare used books, but you have to be willing to pay in installments. The security guards play Russian roulette in the janitor’s closet during their breaks. They sell more than vitamins and ephedra at the GNC. And I saw someone raid the storeroom at Radio Shack last night, after his boss left at 9. He said he was rummaging for materials that he can use to prevent the fountain from spitting up goat’s blood again.

And all of them – ALL of them, without exception, take orders from the two old men in baseball caps who are always sitting in the food court talking about old times. Yesterday I overheard them talking about the time Jimmy Carter was assassinated there. I wouldn’t believe it except for the fact that the woman behind the counter at Kay Jewelers can tell you what your mother’s birthday is and what day your father is going to die. And I bought a pair of loafers at the PayLess over five years ago, and they’re as good as the day I bought them, too.

Today the guy at the counter winked at me when I supersized my combo meal. Why did he do that? What does he know? Is that some sort of code for something, or is he just fucking with my head?

I’m going to have to talk to him later. But right now, dammit, I could really use a drink.