Staring at the numbers 5:13 for only a minute made me tired. Finally I am tired. It is now 5:14 in the morning and I am tired. I wonder why people sleep, why do people need sleep? I know it feels like shit being awake for so long, but I hate sleep. I haven't slept in two days. Not a full two days, but it was gonna be exact in 5 hours. With my fingers entwined in each other, I lay straight down the center of my unmade bed. I look at the ceiling now instead of the clock.
I crave the drink. Looking down at my cold fingers, there is a bottle in between them. Oh yeah, forgot about that. I take a swig only because I like that word. The alcohol runs down the back of my throat like a dream. The television turns itself on because it was set to, by me. The colors come out of the set and into my room. Its dark at 5:15am. I have to stand up because I cannot sleep with all the colors. On my walk all the way to the television, which is positioned right in front of my bed on my dresser, I have to look out the window. The pretty lights catch my eye. I see the people walk in and out of stores and I see the stores that have their neon lights.
I press the power button and close the drapes. When lying in bed for the second time this morning, I am sure that I�m going to fall asleep. I lean over to my nightstand that contains a blinking yellow light and a drawer below it. Inside the drawer, I take out a box. PROVIGIL is its name. There is a large pill in this box and I pop it in my mouth. Now I�m thirsty to get it down my throat. This should keep me awake. Its supposed to be very effective and very safe.
At 5:30am I know I cannot stay awake any longer so I go over to the window where there is a table. On the table I have cold coffee that must keep me awake. I drag my slippers along the floor to make my way there. After drinking two cold cups, I turn around and am so frightened that I have to jump back on the table. �Holy�shit,� I say to the big eyed creature on my bed.
I look up to the ceiling to see snow falling from it. The penguin stands on my bed holding a yellow sled. The taste of the cold coffee was of alcohol. I�m no longer sober. �Why hello, Ms. Penguin, I�m glad to see you up at this�uh�hour,� I say. She stares at me with big cute eyes that form tears. �What�s wrong?�
In a high pitched voice she tells me about how her fellow penguin friends haven�t been good to her. �You�ve told me this many times, Penguin.�
�I know, but I�ve finally made a new friend. She looks like you.�
�You have a girl friend, Penguin. Why don�t you have a boy friend?�
�I�m trying, I�m trying. I was trying with this sled a little bit ago. Why must I worry about it?�
�I do not know, you�re a very likable creature.�
�But I�m a penguin. I don�t fit in with my friends, so I need a human. They have more fun anyway.�
We stare at each other for about a minute. Her eyes are still watering and she has the most pathetic look that I must laugh. Her cartoon-like motions are so awesome too. She hops on the bed so lightly, but not going anywhere. In a much higher hop, she lands on her sled and falls off my bed and out of my door, which opened and closed just for her. She left with a couple more penguins to go play in the snow, I could tell as over ten of them slid past my door on sleds.
Turning around, my room is even darker. I notice this because all of the snow that melted before my eyes cast a blue light. But now my room was darker. The day outside turned to light at 7:55am. I was lying on the end of my bed looking at the ceiling wondering why the penguin came to talk to me. No reason, except that I was drunk. My whole morning took so long that I decided it was sick of me not to do anything. I was not tired, so I walked out of the room and into the hallway. It was barely light out and because of the early time, nobody else was awake. There were no people screaming in the hallways yet.
When I get down to the lobby, everybody is eating breakfast. Holy hell, they were up before me even though I�ve been awake for so much longer. Its Saturday, I see. Otherwise, nobody would be as happy. Saturday and Sunday are the only happy days of the week. I have a smile on as I walk past everybody. Out on the street I am met my a car that has its door already open. When I reach the car the driver asks �Hey, are you coming tonight.�
�You know it,� I say, excited.
He was a part of a team who worked for nobody and got paid more than enough for me to stop living off tortilla chips and salsa. He was an asshole, people hated him and he was living a life he didn�t know was as bad as it was. He loves life because he is sponsored by the wealthy. He is living because of the people he takes money from. �I�ll see you tonight.�
I try to laugh, but cry instead.
My eyes sting. I am standing over his car, he doesn�t see me. He drives an orange muscle car with a black stripe down the middle. I am going to be given a gun and am going to get all the money I can. The money is my respect, it�s the way of life. It is my escape. I�m glad I am going.
The man with the �do-rag� on his head drives away, flooring the accelerator of his car. The rag on his head is black and it covers his hair. He drives away and stops before a lady gets into his car, a lady who he knew from the last time she was standing outside. Its daytime, and I guess that she makes her money during the day.
I look at all the other exotic cars around me. This is the best place to live. I look at the signs on the line of stores to my right. The neon lights aren�t on. Its daytime, so whatever, I laugh. I take out my cell phone from its clip on my belt �Yo, are you going tonight?�
�I have my own gang,� says the male voice.
�Fuck you,� I say to myself after closing the phone and putting it back on the clip.
Walking back up to my room to kill time on my playstation that I bought myself, I see other stuff in my room. Somebody else is here. This person�s things are things I see all over the fucking hotel. This person brings out the most hatred in me. My eyes glare around my room. My room has pink shit in the bathroom, pink towels and stuff. The person all of a sudden takes a step out of the shower. Holy fuck is he fat. His small dick flashes my eyes, wounding them. His dick stands for what he is, it erects at the thought of punishing me.
I stand straight, outside the bathroom in my black leather jacket and my tan pants. My khaki�s are worn by most people to work. The people wearing these often are the ones coming home from the office to see their children playing in their yards and their dogs shitting on them. �What the fuck are you doin here, John?�
�The front desk says I need a place to stay for the night, so they�re moving me in here before I move in next door. I plan on living here.�
�This is a hotel, John, I don�t think you should live here.�
�You live here,� says John as if that made it okay to live in a hotel.
I don�t know what to say, this asshole doesn�t back down on what he says. He hates me, but somehow he�got a key to my room. Shit. �Why don�t you move into an apartment, John?�
�I prefer these hotels� the bastard says.
What I do? Do I have to hide my shit around my hotel? Can I complain? Nobody likes me in this hotel. The manager doesn�t stand up for me. I�m dirt. I�ve settled in here though, and not planning on leaving anytime soon, because I can�t. I can�t because I�ve been here so long.
I hid my playstation and some books I was reading. I also picked up my clothes and put them in the drawers. The room was actually already pretty clean. Taking my cell phone off my belt along with its clip and opening my sock drawer to put it in seemed like a good idea. I look back after closing the drawer, to see a towel wrapped around this huge man. �You had better be gone by tonight. I�m complaining to the front desk,� I lie.
I�m gonna be seeing him again, I think to myself as I walk depressingly downstairs.
What a beautiful day I can use to get my mind off things. Tonight is gonna be fun but I have nothing to do right now. I live my life always waiting for something. Something always ends really quickly, so I have to wait for it again. On the beach, the sand burns me feet, so I walk next to the water. I don�t go up. Walking on the beach makes me happy, and that�s what I want to do. Going up to my car is too hard and besides, I can do that later. Going up to the car though, the ground is hot cement. I should have just brought my shoes.
I love the sound of water. Everynight I keep my window open so I can listen to the ocean. The ocean is the only soothing thing I have, and I love it. It�s the only thing that is always there for me. Its my paradise, I think as I look at to cute palm trees standing next to each other. I take a swig out of the bottle I didn�t know I had in my hand. Then my shoulder gets poked by two claws.
*Squawk* �HELLO!�
�Whoa, I know you,� I say into the air.
�How�s it goin, how�s it goin?� he squawks.
�Its�goin�pretty�good, but could you lighten your grip? That hurts� I groan.
�Certainly, now what are you doing with those gang members tonight?� He asks like a father, his parrot voice isn�t normal, it sounds like any man would talk.
�Yes, I am, you got a problem with it?� I ask, sounding like a teenager.
�Absolutely not, but just so you know, you should go with your friend, he wants you to come.�
�I asked him to come with me tonight, he chose not to, and I have already made this commitment, I can do whatever the hell I want, right, Bird?�
�That�s right, but I have seen his friends, they�re not that bad, they�re richer.�
�Really?�
�YES,� He answers quickly, �But you gotta do what you want to do.�
�I�ll sleep on it, Bird.�
He flies off, leaving me there thinking. Since making money is my only point in even living, going with the richer group of people would help my life�s status. I could use my friend to get into a better part of this world. Its my friend that�s the problem. He�d screw me somehow, that�s his point in living. The day gets darker, and the sand gets cooler, and now it is perfect for me to walk up the beach and to my car.
That night when I walk into the residence of the man with the do-rag, his fishnet-legged maid greets me. He has a nice house. His mistress takes me into their living room where he and another guy named Brandon are talking. They share a drink into two glasses, and I take a third glass and help myself.
�Help yourself,� Brandon says.
The mistress takes my leather jacket, revealing a velvet black shirt that is tight on me.
�What�s up?� says the man with the do-rag.
�When do we get started?� I ask not too enthusiastically.
�I don�t know when it starts, what did you bring?�
�Some food,� I say, putting the chips and cheese salsa I bought ten minutes ago. When the other two, Orlando and Eric get there, we go down to the basement and discuss our �game plan.� I listen while my hands are positioned on either side of my waste. Shit, where�s my phone?
I turn around to see if I dropped it here, and of course I didn�t. Shit. I think back to when I would have taken it off, because my clip isn�t with it either. Shit. Once I lose something, I never see it again. I think harder.
�Lets GO!� The man with the do-rag yells, and the five of us, including me, run outside and get into our shiny cars. Orlando goes with the man with the Do-rag in his Orange muscle car. I get in my black Ferrari to look for my damned cell phone. Then Brandon comes up to my car and gives me a gun. I keep it off the door�s surface so it doesn�t scratch my car by lifting it and taking it through the window.
The place where the guys stopped at was nasty. It was extremely dark and all of the people who lived there had yards that looked like the grounding of a field. There were bullet holes in their houses. The street looked like something out of a western movie, except there was painted graffiti all over. Their cars were not shiny, but they were painted, the doors colored different than other parts. I glare my eyes in my unmoving car. We drive behind someone�s house and park our cars there. �Alright, who wants to get paid?� The man with the do-rag whispers.
We unroll our black hats to cover our faces. The ski-mask makes me feel powerful.
We all walk back on the street. I glare my eyes, acting pissed off and jackassy after taking a swig of alcohol. There�s a switch on my gun that makes the rounds of fire come off as in Semi-automatic. I unlock the safety, and continue walking with the guys. The doors we enter are already unlocked and the doorways from there are covered with sheets. �Welcome to the Ghetto,� says Eric.
Its so quiet in this room. I hear the guys in the next room over yelling at the loud television. They must be having a lot of fun. Brandon lets us through the door way by lifting up the sheet and the house gets lighter as I see four guys wearing football jersey�s and large shorts. These fatasses don�t even have a chance, I think as I watch them get slaughtered by my �friends�� firing. Okay, that�s it�
Everything gets louder as gunfire is heard going through the next doorway. When I get through I see a fat guy running at us but gets sling-shotted back away and lands in a chair. Little do I realize the bullets flying back through the walls, I stand there without shooting.
My neck cracks when a woman grabs me from behind. I can�t do anything except hold onto my gun as I am choked into the kitchen. She has a silver gun shooting at my friends from inside the kitchen. The lights are really bright in the kitchen, the whole room looks blue. I use the heel of my gun to smack her in the knee, and she screams so loud that I don�t know what to do. She lifts her gun up and pulls the trigger at me. In shock, I look down at my stomach. Feeling no pain, I look back up at her. She falls to the ground. �Thanks, man,� I say to the man with the do-rag. My guys rob the house and move onto the next.
In the street, I never take cover, I start firing rapidly into the houses of all the people. When the car behind me loses a window, I look around to see a man sprinting past us firing a silver handgun. I run after him. �What the fuck are you doing?� he asks me when I turn a corner.
�So this is �your gang?�� I ask him, recognizing his voice. �What the hell are YOU doing?�
�Killing you, at the moment.�
Using the back end of my gun again, I smack his hand to make him lose the gun. �Do you think I care? I guess you really are nobody,� but before I fire at him, I�m being shot at by my own team. �COME ON!�
I guess they thought I was hiding. �I�m not gonna hurt you, so get outta here,� I tell my friend.
We run into the largest house at the end of the street and get to the upstairs. My friends open the safe. �Oooh, aaah,� we say.
Back at our cars, two of them count the money. After getting handed my own money Brandon says �We�ll see ya later, have fun with that.�
I kneel down, my knee hurts. �Whoa,� says Brandon, �What�s wrong?�
I fall down on my stomach. �I�m being shot at,� I get out of my throat.
Brandon covers me by shooting back�at my friend, I see. �Cheating bastard,� I say. The frustration gives me the power to stand up.
�You alright?�
�Yeah,� I say to whoever asked. �I�m perfectly fine.�
Back home, I see John sitting on the toilet with the door wide open. �Good fuck, man!� He laughs. I collapse on my bed and turn the television on. MY DRAWER! I look for my cell phone in my drawer because I remember putting it in there. Where is it?
�Some cleaning man took it when he came in.�
�Why did you let him take it?�
�Its not mine, and you left it here, and I didn�t see a problem with it.�
I looked on the bed to see a red bandana. The same one my friend always wears. The bastard can get into my shit now. What can I do about it? This is my friend, and telling him that he can't borrow my shit isn't "nice" like I always try to be. This day is getting pretty long, wouldn�t you say? I go to sleep.
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