I feel like shit. I haven't slept in days. My eyes move slower than I can see. I feel them drifting shut. I begin to feel the administering of that familiar feeling of being shuttled off into darkness.
I believe it's called sleeping.
The door to my office opens, and it's my boss. A manilla folder crashes into my desk like a ten kilometer asteroid into the Yucatan.
My boss was a real piece of shit. The kind of dickhead who liked to choke cats. I wanted to wipe my ass with his face.
"Get to work Spade. I don't have time for your shit. And no smoking in the building!"
The door slams with enough force to crush 6 million jews (author's apologies, first thing that came to mind).
I unwind the rubber band. Then I rewind it. I'll worry about this tomorrow.
I enter my apartment. I throw the keys down, open the bathroom door.
I dock with the toilet like something out of 2001. A bunch of little ones come out first, fries, then the big one, hamburger.
