Kenny G Must Die- A Satire About Music... And Zombies (EXCERPT) by William Hrdina

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It comes out at midnight, sharp."
There was a long pause while Carole just looked at Steve, and waited for him to admit he was joking.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Steve was pointing at his watch. "It's 12:01- I should be on my way to my car to listen to it already. I've got to be the first to hear it!"
Carole took a deep breath and tried to fight the strong temptation to tell Steve to stick his Kenny G up his ass sideways. But Carole had three kids, she needed her job. Carole knew her boss, the dick, was the kind of guy who thought the customer was always right- even when the customer was clearly and asshole. Mr. Kenny G fanatic wasn't worth it.
"One minute sir, I need to get it from the back." She mumbled, half under her breath.
"The album gets released at midnight- you should've had it ready to go at midnight." Steve insisted to the retreating sales clerk.
Carole's back didn't react, which was good, because her front was telling Steve, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off. She went into the back storeroom where she met Francis, a cashier on break.
"Hey Carole. You hanging in there?" Francis knew Carole hated working nights.
"By a thread. I have some guy freaking out on me because we don't have the midnight releases out on the shelves yet."
"Let me guess, Radiohead?"
Carole laughed. That's what I thought too. Nope, Kenny fuckin' G."
Then it was Francis's turn to laugh. "I'm 59, and even I think that guy is for old people- deaf old people."
"This kid who is freaking out can't be older than 25."
"Seriously? Oh I gotta see this winner!" Francis laughed again and left the storeroom. Carole went and found the box with the latest shipment of CD's and began searching for the Kenny G. By the time she found it, Francis was back from her reconnaissance mission.
"It's him!" She exclaimed.
"Who?"
"Remember, last month, when I told you there was a guy who paid for thirty dollars worth of stuff with nickels and pennies?"
"Shut up! It's the same guy?"
"That's him. I'll remember that prick till the day I die."
Carole was surprised at her language. Francis was a very proper woman. ‘Prick' was the dirtiest word Carol ever heard her say.
"Excuse my language, but that man is horrible." Francis said, her face a little red at her bold choice of words.
"If I remember right, even Dave (the manager) said you could ignore the guy."
"That's true."
"Well, then I think I'm going to take a cigarette break now. You want one."
"Sure, thanks."
After her cigarette, Carole walked lazily back out onto the floor. Steve was waiting, nearly apoplectic.
"It is now 12:12- I should be on track 3 by now! Where in the heck have you been?! This is very... unacceptable."
"Yes sir. Here's your CD sir." Carole set the CD down on the counter and walked away not giving him any emotion one way or the other.
"I'll have your job for this. You will be fired. I'm going to write the mayor about this. You are an incompetent!" Steve yelled before snatching up the CD from the counter and stomping away.