He woke up covered in what he thinks is probably his own urine, but honestly at this point he can’t be totally sure. The room is exactly how you would picture a motel room that charges $35 a night, has a microwave/toilet combo, and doesn’t require a credit card. It is a beautiful day outside.
After a series of non-descript mumbles and groan he rolls over and reaches for his phone, it is fully charged. He has three messages. The first two are from “Her”. Both are long paragraphs that center around the common theme of to stop calling her, he’ll never see his kids again, blah blah, he’s just like his father, blah blah bl- he swipes and deletes the conversation thread. The third message has no name attached to it, just a random number with a 424 area code and a message that read “Fuck you.”
He puts the phone down and stared at the ceiling, reading the cracks and breaks in the paint, for a few moments before rolling out of bed and walking to the shower. The water falls over his body for a few short minutes. Walking out the door in a crisp polo and kakis he notices that two of the wheels of his beat up 2004 Toyota Camry are slashed. A note is left on his dashboard that politely explains that he only has two weeks left to pay the 22 grand he owes Ron. The note was able to be left on his dashboard because the windows had been smashed in.
So he took the bus.
There were no open seats on the bus, every single seat was taken by an old woman holding a basket of fruit. One seat was taken by a dog, the dog had a window seat and was staring out the window woefully, as if remembering a love long lost.
When they arrived he realized he had missed his stop and had to end up walking the eight blocks to his job, all up hill. While walking down the street he passed a street performer, a mime, on the sidewalk. Stopping to watch, he was amazed at the dedication and skill this performer possessed. The mime kept miming (as mimes do), got exceptionally close to him (still miming), and almost as if without warning threw-up on him.
The man kept walking.
Finally arriving at his place of business, he paused to gaze at a beautiful French woman headed his way (he could tell she was French because, other than her red dress and lipstick, everything around her was in black and white). She walked right up to him, yelled a string of words in French, before slapping him.
Inside there was a line of people waiting in front of an unmanned counter. He strolled behind the counter, aimlessly mashed some keys on the keyboard that wasn’t plugged into anything, and announced to the first customer “Welcome to CarMax, how may I help you?”