Over Your Head

I punched the alarm clock across the room when it went off.  I was done fucking around with the snooze button.

The Fray bleated at me, muffled by the pile of laundry the clock landed in.

I had to make it stop, which meant getting my ass out of bed.

After picking the shattered remnants of the alarm clock out of the bottom of my foot I pulled off a ten minute shower and shave combo and made it out the door before first light.

The street was empty when I climbed into the Towncar and got it started.

The Fray bleated at me on the radio.  I cycled through the stations but couldn’t get away from that fucking song.

I counted to ten and convinced myself to go with it because I couldn’t take the silence and I stepped on the gas pedal.  I had work to do.

The rain started up barely five miles out of town.  The Towncar was fishtailing all over the road and I groaned inside every time I heard the load in the trunk shifting.

Had to be done, I told myself.  Simple case of self-preservation.  Them or you.

By the time I made fifty miles on the highway I believed that it was all for the greater good and  I was ready for some steak and eggs.

I hit the truck stop just off of exit 28.  The rain just wouldn’t let up and it soaked me in the seven steps from my spot to the front door.

It was warm in the truck stop and the smell of coffee had me singing hallelujahs but it all turned to shit before my ass even hit the stool at the counter.

The Fray began bleating at me out of the juke box.

Over my head, they kept on singing.

Now, once you can’t do anything about.  Twice?  Still could be chalked up to coincidence.  Three times in the space of two hours?  That’s the universe trying to tell you something via emo pop.

I pushed the steak and eggs around my plate for a while but couldn’t eat much.  The rain wasn’t letting up any so I gave up waiting and got back on the road.

The girl at the cash register was humming that fucking Fray song.

The rain got even harder as I pulled out of the parking lot and merged back onto the highway.  I was not looking forward to this job in the rain.  At least the ground would be softened up.

When that Fray song came on yet again I closed my eyes and cursed.

When I opened them I just about had a heart attack.

Three men were sitting in the back seat of the Towncar.  Three men who should have been lying dead in the trunk.

The one in the middle shot me a grin full of shattered teeth.

“You’re in over your head, boy,” he said.  “It’s our turn now.”


Posted on July 15, 2012, in Friday Night Write. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Andy Bartalone

    I now know what your next birthday present is….


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