ROX
"RED ROOF INN OFF HIGHWAY 49"
Nobody knows where Rox came from. Not the owners of Terror on the Coast. Not the people who work there. Not Walmart. And certainly not Rox. Ask Rox where he was born and he’ll tell you the Red Roof Inn off Highway 49.
Ask him which room and he’ll proudly tell you:
“Room 34.” Tell him that motel doesn’t have a Room 34 and Rox will stare at you for several uncomfortable seconds.Then he’ll lean closer.
“Not anymore.”
Before you can ask what the hell that means, he’ll suddenly look over your shoulder, become distracted by something you can’t see, and start arguing with someone who apparently owes him money. That’s Rox. According to him, his childhood was completely normal. Unfortunately, Rox’s definition of normal changes every time you ask him. Some days his mother worked for a traveling carnival. Other days she worked at Walmart. Once, he claimed she was the regional manager of Waffle House.
His father is an even bigger mystery. Rox has claimed his father abandoned the family when he was six. He’s also claimed his father died in a tragic corn dog accident, and on one particularly emotional evening, Rox quietly admitted that his father…was a corn dog.
Nobody asked any further questions.
What is known—or at least what Rox insists is true—is that somewhere along the way, he found himself around carnivals. The flashing lights. The bright colors.The games nobody ever really wins. The questionable food served on sticks. Rox had found paradise. Nobody remembers hiring him. Nobody remembers inviting him. One day there was no Rox.
The next day there was a sickly yellow man in carnival clothes wandering around asking people if they’d like to enter his: “FREE TWO-DOLLAR RAFFLE!” The rules are simple. You give Rox two dollars.That’s it.What are you entering to win? Depends when you ask. A television, a bicycle, three corn dogs, a 2006 Ford Tauru, custody of somebody named Steven.
Once, Rox claimed the grand prize was the state of Florida., and when is the drawing?October 32nd, February 30th, The 859th Tuesday after Christmas. Whatever date Rox gives you, one thing is certain:That date probably doesn’t exist. Nobody has ever won the Free $2 Raffle.Rox maintains that this isn’t his fault. According to him, nobody ever shows up for the drawing.
Eventually, whatever carnival Rox belonged to moved on but Rox didn’t. Whether they accidentally left him behind, intentionally abandoned him, or Rox simply became distracted and forgot he was supposed to leave remains one of life’s great unanswered questions.
Eventually, he found his way to Highway 49, and that’s where Rox built his empire. Behind Walmart. In a box. But don’t disrespect Rox by calling it just a box, according to him, it’s a two-story house. Bedroom. Kitchen. Living room. Guest room. Rox has described amenities that change frequently and almost certainly do not exist. Unfortunately, Rox’s home has one major structural flaw. Rain. When it rains, the two-story residence becomes a one-story residence. Ask Rox what happened to the second floor and he’ll shrug.
“Water damage.”
Despite his circumstances, Rox still has standards. Especially when it comes to footwear. Rox owns Crocs and one of them is covered with a Dollar General bag. That’s because… it’s the good Croc. Do not question the good Croc.
Then one day, Rox wandered into Terror on the Coast. He claims he was there for a job interview but according to inside sources, there was no interview scheduled. There wasn’t even a position available, but somehow…Rox got the job. His responsibilities are simple, keep the building clean, sweep the floors, use the dustpan and try not to lose either one.
And for his tireless dedication to cleanliness, Terror on the Coast compensates Rox handsomely: Ten cents a night, and Rox is extraordinarily proud of this. Ask him how much he makes and he’ll straighten himself up like a Fortune 500 executive. “TEN CENT.”
Rox considers himself a working man now. A provider, a professional and possibly management. And he takes his job very seriously. Drop something on the floor and Rox will find it. Try picking it up yourself and you might hear him screaming from across the room: “DON’T TOUCH THAT! THAT’S JOB SECURITY!”
Unfortunately, years of extremely questionable life decisions have left Rox’s mind operating on a frequency known only to Rox. Having a conversation with him is an experience. He’ll ask your name, and possibly forget your name.
Ask it again, and forgot that he already met you. Rox will become suspicious that you might not actually exist. Hear something across the room, respond to it. Argue with it and come back to your conversation, forget what you were talking about, remember the raffle, ask for two dollars, then suddenly disappear because…somebody has a corn dog.
If there’s one thing Rox loves more than his box…more than his job…more than his ten-cent paycheck…more than the good Croc…possibly even more than the Free $2 Raffle…It’s corn dogs, and nobody knows why. Not even Rox.
But underneath all of it—the carnival clothes, the Christmas lights, the crooked teeth, the bruises, the sickly complexion, the confusion, the conversations with people who aren’t there, the box behind Walmart and the completely fraudulent economics of a “Free $2 Raffle”—
Rox loves people. He’ll talk to anybody, he doesn’t care who you are, he doesn’t care where you came from, he doesn’t care what you look like and he doesn’t care whether you’re important or not. Granted, there’s a decent chance he’s not entirely convinced you’re real, but until proven otherwise…You’re Rox’s friend. Maybe that’s why people remember him.
Maybe that’s why, out of all the creatures lurking inside Terror on the Coast, this strange little man with his broom, his Christmas lights and his Dollar General-covered Croc somehow becomes the one people can’t stop talking about.
Nobody knows exactly where Rox came from. Nobody knows how long he’s been here, and honestly…nobody is completely sure Rox knows either. Maybe the stories are true, maybe none of them are. Maybe somewhere behind that sickly yellow face, crooked smile, and scrambled mind is a man who remembers exactly how he got here, or maybe he forgot a long time ago.
Either way, it doesn’t really matter, because eventually… he’ll find you and the only thing you’ll hear him say is…
“Hi, I’m Rox… what’s your name?”