Prepare yourself.

Beep. Beep. Beep.
I reached over and slugged my alarm clock across the room. It was Saturday morning, and I was missing my one day to sleep in. I yanked myself out of bed, threw on jeans and a t-shirt and walked barefoot out of the door.
My car was a 1988 oldsmobile, white with red leather seats. It was a nice enough car, at least for now. I started the engine, popped in Audioslave’s first album and drove off.
I could smell the discontent from a mile away. I parked in the lot and got out, noticing several hung-over employees shuffling in from across the parking lot. Rat was lying on the hood of his car, passed out, having not moved from the night before. He texted me and announced that he was getting dome on the hood of his car. I didn’t believe it. I still don’t. I couldn’t miss the chance: I wound up and decked him as hard as I could on the shoulder. The force of the blow stunned him and he tried to leap to his feet, but instead flipped off the hood of the car. He hopped to his feet, eyes adjusting, trying to see what the hell just happened. I kept walking, like I did not just kick his ass.
“Hey. Linus.” He shouted. I ignored him, trying not to smile in victory. Maybe this meeting wouldn’t be too bad.