Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

 
he got into his truck, slammed the door shut, and closed his eyes and sat there a second.

up until that second, it has been full steam ahead for johnny. Up at 6am to battle rush hour traffic for two hours. At work by 8:30am to deal with the job for 5 hours... or so.

that first break, that first sigh of relief is crucial. it's not rare that there are zero moments like this.

johnny turns the key, starts the engine running, and lets the air conditioning blow the bangs out of his eyes. he pulls his hat down over his eyes with his left hand, and lets his right hand crawl over the center console for a cigarette, and the ipod's play button.

it's these moments that are so precious, as "something in the way she moves" comes on, and the second hand smoke from the cigarette creeps out the crack in the drivers side window.

our hero scoots his butt towards the engine, and gets his leggs crossed indian style up on the stearing wheel. and he thinks to himself about the tree he can see in the parking lot... "nice tree... should i go carve 'ftw' innit? hmmm..."

he can feel his eye lids get heavy, and his two fingers he's using to hold the cigarette feel weak, and he wonders how much longer it will be before he just nods off and drops the butt, and liights the car on fire...

DINGA LING A LINGGGGGGGGGGGA LINGG

Johnny's jarred into alert attack mode, and lunges forward to grab for the cell phone. he can feel his heart racing, and the number on the caller ID is labled 'do not answer'

that means it's alecia. a signwalker, so he answers and listens to her yip yap, wich was pointless, and throws the phone onto the dash board... and sits there wide awake, and mad as hell.






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