My Last Day at Big Toni's

Like most days, it was long and drawn out, consisting of copying hundreds of numbers into little boxes. Except recently the days have felt especially long. It is spring now. The days are getting warmer, flowers blooming, and the accountants shuffle home after a long day of work. Tax season is in full swing now and I can feel the weight of it settling on my shoulders by the pain in my back.

I let out a long yawn. Work had begun to seep into my dreams. The night before last, I dreamt I was being chased by a giant baby through office buildings. When the baby finally fell asleep, I sat down at a broken desk and filled out T778’s for all the damages. Things had gotten dire.

I arrive at a spot I know all too well, the intersection I pause to contemplate at every day on my evening walk home. At the intersection, I could go right and head home — but turning left would take me there! My second home. The place where time flows by like a breeze and my worries slowly wash away. I can see its neon lights reflecting off the buildings that sat atop the hill, calling to me like a siren. Before I know it, my feet carry me forward. I should have just gone home.

Big Toni’s Classical Arcade Emporium glows like a beacon, calling any wayward soul seeking respite and joy in this dull and dismal world. I swing open the doors and am greeted by that familiar smell that makes me feel like a kid again. Like I can do anything! I love everything about Big Toni’s Classical Arcade Emporium. The floors with their neon stars, sticky with spilled slushy and soda. The walls, covered in posters old and new, poorly lit by the light of the flashing arcades. And the sounds! Oh, the sounds! 8-bit jingles of victory and defeat, the clicking of cheap plastic buttons, and metal balls clanging in their perfect cases of glass like a treasure on display. Some people went to bars for a cold beer after work. Not me. All I need is an iced pop and some paddles between my fingers. I fill a cup of cheap paper with cherry cola and walk over to my favourite machine.

The artificial glow of ‘Pinball Shootout’ draws me in like a campfire with an old friend sitting at it. I sigh as I survey the familiar land before me. The land in which I am king, traversing it with ease in my chariot of silver. I give the paddles some anticipatory swings, feeling its unbridled power coursing through the buttons at a mere touch. The ivory horns of a bucking bull. And he was eager to explode forward after so much time at rest. I need to be especially gentle today, for the mark of a true master is one who can apply a delicate touch despite their vast strength. I put a quarter into the machine, and smile as it whirred to life.

My hand hovers over the handle of the plunger. Like a cowboy at high noon, the soreness in my hand is replaced with an itch to pull the trigger. I eye up my opponents. Pinny the kid twirls a pistol on his finger with a cocky smirk, leaning against the post of a saloon. Pin Picket rides a wild stallion, firing into the air with one hand and holding his hat with the other. Pinbull Bill glares back with a murderous grin from a balcony. Bandana Pin stands in the window of the saloon with two guns already trained on me. And in the middle of them all stands their fearsome leader, the Pin with no name. The Pintuplets. The most feared outlaws in the west. I’d be worried if I hadn’t beaten them time and time again. They put on a tough act, but I can smell their fear. Quick as a flash, I reach for the plunger and-

“Can I have a turn yet?” Asks a boy who looked about 10 or 12. He wears a blue baseball cap and a striped shirt that had seen one too many washes. He holds an extra large slurpee cup, sipping it like a madman while he waits for my reply. How is he not getting brain freeze?

“Sorry kid, but I just got here.”

“But I actually want to play the game. You’re just touching it.” I take a long sip of slurpee. “Kinda weird, dude.”

“I’m not just touching it, I’m getting in the zone.”

“Well I’m in the zone, so can I play?”

“No!” I take a deep breath, letting the tranquil sounds of Big Toni’s Classical Arcade Emporium bring me back into a state of zen.

SLUUUUUURRRRRRRP!!! I jump at the harsh noise blaring beside me.

Just ignore him. I think. This is the one thing no one can take from you. I set my jaw in concentration. No, it doesn’t matter if this kid is trying to distract me. In fact I welcome the challenge. I yank on the plunger, releasing it the second I feel the ball bounce off it. The ball zips down the track like a racehorse and explodes out the gate. On pure instinct alone, I hit the left paddle, deflecting the shot in the nick of time. I chuckle. When I was younger, something like that might have caught me off guard, but I’d shot that ball hundreds of times. I know exactly where it will be.

There was no time to be smug though. The ball slams into a bumper and comes carrening back to me. I toss the ball into the left wall, letting gravity arc it back to my right paddle where it lay in wait. I jam my finger into the button, sending the ball zipping into Pinny the kid before he could ready his gun. I fire two more shots in quick succession at Bandana Pin, but the ball bounces harmlessly off the saloon walls. I grimace. My hands are still stiff from work, making the tricky shots harder to hit. Fine, I think. We’ll just have to take the high ground.

I pass the ball to Buck, my only ally in this lawless land. The ball ricochets off him, bouncing up to the balcony where an unsuspecting Pinbull Bill awaits. Slamming into his back, Pinball Bill falls through the railing, his body creating a ramp back down. Thanks, Buck. I tip an imaginary hat to him. He gives back a thumbs up and a nearly toothless grin. The ball bounces around the patio bumpers, building up momentum before shooting through the opening and hitting Pin Picket right off his horse. The ball is a streak of light as it comes back towards me. My heart races as my fingers hover over the buttons. Come on, almost there!

“Are you done yet?” I flinch as particles of spit speckle my arm. My paddle breezes past the ball, letting it drop into the gate. I let out a groan of frustration.

“No kid, now scram! I still got two balls, and that’s assuming I don’t get more!” Did he even play pinball? It didn’t matter. I set my eyes back onto the targets before me, hearing the ball clatter back in the pen. The three outlaws I shot in the previous round stood up. These bastards always stood right back up again if you gave them a moment. It was a thankless job, but someone had to do it.

This time, I go straight for Pinbull Bill, taking a winding ramp into a window across from him. The lights of the machine flash and a rising tone rings out. A cartoony bang plays as the ball is shot onto the opposing balcony, bouncing off the railing before hitting Bill in the back once more. The ball rolls down his fallen body and straight at my waiting paddles. This time, I was ready. I shoot the ball right into the Saloon where Bandana Pin would be defenceless. The Machine blares once again.

“BUCKSHOT!” It cries. A pixelated shotgun shooting on the screen that showed your score. A pair of lips curled into a smile. Time to unleash Hell! Three balls shoot out of the Saloon, knocking down Bandana Pin as they went. I riddle the Pintuplet bandits with fire, juggling the three balls in rapid succession. The outlaws get no quarter as Pin Picket and Pinny the kid go down before they know what hit them. All that remains is the Pin with no name. I had seen hundreds of players make it this far, only to be crushed by this fearsome gunslinger. But not me!

“Could you let my son have a turn?” One of the three balls goes careening into a gobble hole. I curse under my breath. I barely manage to keep the other two balls alive. I juggle them while I glance over at the mom. She has short brown hair with streaks of blond dyed in. She sweeps her bangs to the side with a disappointed look on her face. Great.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” I force down a smile at her huffs of befuddlement. My attention turns back to the game. The law waits for no man, woman, or child. I slap the two remaining balls in perfect succession. The Pin with no name dives in and out of cover, returning fire just as often as I give it, no ball ever landing a shot. I rapidly jam the buttons, barely keeping up with his onslaught. A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead.

“You know, people like you are what’s wrong with society these days. You’d rather huddle up in your mothers basement playing games instead of going out into the world and getting a real job!”

I should just ignore her. She has to get bored eventually.

“Why are you even hanging around a place like this? What? You one of those- those weirdos?”

I barely catch a ball heading straight for the centre. My use of the right paddle has grown stiff with that lady crowding me. I manage to get a ball back up to the balcony so I can breathe a little. The Pin with no name didn’t even miss a beat. Cocky son of a bitch.

“Hey I’m talking to you!” The mother pokes me in the side just as the ball in the balcony falls back down. It falls into the gate.

“Look lady! I’ll have you know that I am an accountant with a very lovely home! Can’t a guy have hobbies?”

“You are rude and disrespectful! Kids should be able to come to a place like this without being harassed by an angry, self obsessed man!” She pokes me again - thankfully I had already shot the ball at that point.

“I’m the one being harassed here! I wasn’t here five minutes before your son started trying to butt in!” I glance back over to yell, only to see a man in a security uniform walking over. Oh, that’s just great!

“Sir?” I slam my finger into the button. The ball goes careening way off course.

“I haven’t done anything wrong, I’m just trying to play my game.” I say as calmly as I can muster.

“Oh, you’re not in any trouble, sir. I couldn’t help but overhear that you were an accountant. It just so happens that my boss has been looking for one.”

“Them and half the city.” I lock my eyes onto the ball. My shot is narrowly avoided by the nameless pin.

“He would certainly make it worth your while.” The ball falls straight down the centre. Nothing I could have done. I sigh and reluctantly turn away from the defeat.

“Fine! My games are over anyways.” I grumble, as the man shows me the way. The kid immediately gets to playing, yanking back the plunger, plinking away happily. His mom gives me a nasty look as I leave. I didn’t see him put a quarter in. I think. I slap my forehead as realization hits me. I still have another ball! All the distractions had made me lose track of how many balls had gone by after the buckshot!

“You alright, sir?” The security guard asks, startled.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I say, the weight of work settling back down. My back slouches as I enter the office of Big Toni.

Big Toni is a 5’2” balding man with two golden teeth and a gold chain showing in the opening of a forest green and yellow striped dress shirt. The top two buttons are undone, releasing a torrent of chest hair. He chews on the end of a pen as he looks over a paper in his hand. He slams it down at our arrival. “Ricky, who the hell is this? How many times I gotta tell you about bringing people back here?”

“He’s an accountant sir.” Big Toni’s eyes widen. His eyes survey me as he mulls something over in his head. What, is he looking for a big sign that says ‘accountant?’ Finally, Big Toni nods.

“We need you to look over some forms for us, give the ol’ stamp of approval y’know?”

“Sure,” I sigh. “I can take your paper copies with me to the office tomorrow, otherwise I can give you my card and-”

“Big Toni ain’t a patient man.” Says Ricky, almost apologetically.

“Alright, I’ll take a look.” So much for my home away from home. I lazily look over the sheets of scattered tax documents. My eyes narrow at some of the totals. An arcade like this couldn’t be making that much money in the winter, could they? I look up at Big Toni who smiles at me expectantly.

“So what do you think?”

“It looks like it’s going to be a lot of work. Really, if you just send me the copies I’ll work on it tirelessly first thing in the morning, I promise.” I lie. I stand to leave, but Ricky’s hand on my shoulder stops me.

“I think we are getting off on the wrong foot here,” Big Toni says with a smirk. “I’ve seen you here a lot. How about free play for life, huh? Won’t have to waste all that time counting up all those quarters! HAH!” I’m too nervous to speak. I look between the two men, my heart in my throat. “Of course, the pay would be very generous. All we need from you is a little stamp of approval.” He lights a match, taking a long drag from a cigarette.

“Could I have one of those?” I ask nervously.

“Of course! What’s mine is yours, Mister..?”

“Eastwood.” I lie, pretending to huff the cigarette as Big Toni lights it. I hate those things. “First of all, it isn’t as simple as just stamping it. If I leave it like this, you’ll get caught no matter how many stamps I put on it.”

“Then fix it.” I nod and lean forward, placing the lit cigarette between my legs. I let it drop to the scattered papers on the floor as I look over their ‘cooked’ books.

“You smell that, Boss?” Ricky asks after a few minutes. My eyes nervously flick to the papers below. They had just started to smolder.

“Shut up, Ricky! I need to learn how to fix your sorry attempt at bookkeeping!” My eyes flick to the door.

“And you can’t label things as a write off without providing receipts for it. You’ll want to get receipts from real places, or find another way of hiding this money.” I continue. I hope they can’t hear how nervous I am.

“I’m pretty sure I smell something.” Ricky leans over the desk, sniffing.

“Shut up Ricky!” The papers catch fire.

“It’s like smokey or something.”

“We’ve been smoking, idiot!”

“No, not that smoke. Kinda like-”

“I need to go to the bathroom!” I shoot up and run out the door before the other two can react.

“After him, you idiot!” Big Toni yells from inside the office.

“Sir, your leg!” I run as fast as I can. There was never any time for cardio during tax season, so I make it an embarrassing distance before stumbling over myself, exhausted. The mother from earlier screamed as I stumble right into her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I glance back to see Big Toni charging out of his office, face beet red, with a partially melted pant leg. Without thinking, I take the kid’s slurpee and throw it at one of the extension cords that connect to the machines. It does nothing. I really thought that would work. I bolt for the door, pushing another employee who tries to stop me. I make just as Ricky dives for me. I slam the door in his face. Running down the street, I slip into an alleyway. I skid to a stop at the sight of a chain link fence with a dumpster next to it. Dead end.

“Where’d he go?” Big Toni’s raving echoes down the alleyway. I look at the dumpster, one side popped open from a stack of bags holding it up. It’s unlocked. With a groan of protest, I climb into the other side, pressing myself against the trash. I wait there for hours, long after the two had run off. The sound of blaring sirens is the only thing that makes me crawl from my filthy hidey-hole. As I creep down the alley, the lights of Big Toni’s Classical Arcade Emporium rage like a-

I turn the corner to see Big Toni’s in flames. I crumple to the ground. I’m sorry, Buck, I think. I failed you. I watch Big Toni’s Classical Arcade Emporium burn through bleary eyes.

The End