1 Chapter 1 Living Through Death

"Everything tends towards disorder" ~Something Something, Thermodynamics

The song was over. She wasn't great, but neither was Lizzo, herself. I don't know if I had another turn to sing or not, but my tab was already settled. Condensation on the can said I had some carbonated bread to drink before the door would let me out.

It was past midnight, and so another day had began. I could now eat my wings at my leisure, and I had no doubt they would taste less awesome after some hour and a half in their styrofoam tomb. I couldn't shed a pound to save my life these days, but calorie tracking was still an amusing hobby. I knew I would be trading the wood bench under my ass for my car seat in short order, and would be as stationary there, even after clocking into Uber. Too many drivers; too little care whether drivers lived or died.

Tonight was special-- in its typicality. I had $25 and change in-app, and $20 in cash for six hours on. I have been having dreams about killing off the other drivers, and from that sprang comfort and financial security. In the waking world, I settled for hating my life, and heavy drinking around driving. I was legal on the road, but the sauce and I were only spaced apart for avoidance of altercations with the State.

I decided once I got to my car, I would attack the wings before clocking back in. Beyond beer calories I was starving myself. The beer was coming along, I was drinking for the sake of my salvation at this point. Sober as a judge, still. I spaced them out until I could find the time to tie one on without some cunt with a badge reigning in my joy. Days off, however, were the stuff of fantasy, the way these SilValley corpos lead me by the nose anymore.

I could sing once more before leaving, but I had wings to eat, and a book to read awaiting; clocking back in would amount to nothing beyond a couple more rides for some drunks at this point. And a couple rides would like as not take a couple hours. Too many drivers, too few passengers...

...The time was long past to go home. the wings were good, (if a little congealed), the fares sparse, and dawn was going to touch my bed before my melatonin pills kicked in. Onto the interstate then, for a more abbreviated sprint home.

I had been making the expected pace at perhaps three or four miles an hour past the limit-- I was not a statist, so much as a miser for fuel consumption. it was half a mile to the next cluster of exits.

A wall of rain took me hard, and I had to slow. The radar had been clean when I checked it not an hour or so ago, but Florida was a fickle lady with weather, it was nothing to ponder. A few points on the odometer and I came upon a car on the shoulder, blinkers on and a lone figure facing the treeline. Soaked so that her clothes were colors conformed to her shape, I passed her and her Mercedes thinking little of it. A few points more and the rain with the unfortunate damsel we're nothing more substantial than recollection and a smattering of droplets on my side windows.

"Wanna make out?" I rolled my eyes and swallowed my pills. She would have, but she only said it to agitate me. I kissed her perfunctory-like and settled in beneath the sheets, lamp on and book in hand. Swords and sorcery were a good wind down yarn before bed, and I had already put on rain noises. I was a being of rituals. "I'm going to sleep, you won't be reading long, will you?"

"Only 'til I nod, honey." Her look was nonplussed. I might kill the lamp in ten minutes or five hours. It was hard to turn my head off. She grabbed a blindfold, eyed me askance, then settled facing away. I kissed the back of her head and she grumbled, but then reached behind her to pat my leg. I did love her, she did love me.

Setting my alarm for around two, I hoped to stir before noon. Driving nights was shit this time of year, but for the life of me it was hard to switch my schedule!

The swamp rain audio track and obsessive fixation on minutiae by my chosen author had me drowsy in partnership with the melatonin, and I was gratefully ready to kiss the world goodbye around a half an hour later. It might have been two or so. My best gal was sawing logs and had left me with perhaps less that two foot of width on the bed. The dog had her foot space-- I would not likely reclaim any territory tonight. There were sheets and blanket enough, so I focused on gratitude for that and rolled over to seek the back of my eyelids.

Sometimes I remembered my dreams, sometimes not. They were more often than not in color. Over and over, I was on the interstate, in that sudden, heavy rain. blue, green, and white of my car's interior lighting, stark white of my high beams outside. Silver Mercedes off to the right. And her. Dark clothes, staring away into the woods. I pulled past. And she was gone.

Stark white of my high beams outside. The rain beating my windshield. Silver Mercedes off to the right. And her. Dark clothes, staring away into the woods. I pulled past. And she was was gone.

My car interior was dimly lit by ambient lights. The music was drowned out by the pounding rain. My high beams fought through a wall of water. I noticed a car to the right on the shoulder. A silver Mercedes. Its driver stood to its rear passenger side, drenched, in dark clothes. A woman. Who stared into the woods. I drove past, and as I looked into the rearview mirror, she turned. And looked at me.

The dog barked.

Coming to in a groggy state, the dog was sitting upright, growling in the bed, hackles spiked. He wasn't looking at anything, exactly. Just listening, head cocked, growling. He suddenly barked again and I jumped, caught off guard.

"What's up, buddy? 'Sget'em!" he leaped off the bed and made for the kitchen. He stood there a moment, and then barked gain, but not before I heard our housemates. Some stray cats were shacked up under the trailer, they had been bumping around under there and woke up the dog. I had run them off before, the misses had as well. They came back. The neighbors fed the damn things too well for them to haul ass for good. I leashed up the good boy and took him out for potties since I was up, he did his thing quick and we went back to bed.

She was of course gone before I woke up. It was before two at least, so that was something. I queued up my chosen podcasts and fired on up before hauling out of bed for my routine. Piss, teeth brushing, and fridge scope. Grabbing the tail end of yesterday's energy drink, I headed to the shower. Some days I was blessed to shit prior, some days not.

The times were unchanged, black pills, white pills, madness, and rationale all wrestled with a piss poor economic clusterfuck. Kids thought they knew better than their betters, and for one more day, nobody smacked any sense into them. I ate leftovers instead of my preferred pig and eggs; I loathed throwing food away, since I paid for a lot of it. Her cooking was really good though, so small harm in it. I tossed together more leftovers for the road and drank a beer: On to start the day, two or three to end it. Usually. I deviated once or twice a week, down from three or four times in the recent past. It had become ritual some time back, and I was backing off as best I could. For health.

Trailer park life was purgatory. Nobody did much novel. A lady in a mobility scooter zipped by with a trash bag for the dumpster, someone out of sight was arguing. I loaded my shit into the car and made a call to leave my car as it was outside, except tire shine. I opened the doors to let the heat out , sprayed the tires, then wiped down the seats with protectant while the shine set. I had a couple more casts on my playlist, but I kicked on some music, sprayed some Bath & Bodyworks in the car (it didn't last but was as appreciated by passengers as it was by me-- though my car smelled fine without), and started her up, to get the AC going.

I walked the dog for a quick piss and hoped he shat, though I was a mild dick for not walking him longer to allow him to work it out. I hadn't shat myself yet, so maybe I was externalizing my frustration. I hated starting work without a decent shit. Was I already an old man?! I put him inside and locked up the trailer. Time to pretend to work.

I had managed a few rides in my neck of the woods, as I incrementally made my way south to my preferred post in the Beachside town where I was raised. It hadn't taken me three hours and change for the thirty mile journey, around passengers. It was a little before eight, dark, and I had accrued $55. I hadn't bought anything but a canned coffee so far, so I supposed I could call it profit. I chugged water, pissed, and read my book, catching one or two rides an hour and called it quits just before two. No beer before home, tonight-- I really *was* trying to curb the gut, and figured my power move was less frequent drinks.

So be it, Florida. The rain slapped me again, and I think the same place to boot. I felt gratitude I hadn't detailed my car's exterior tonight. I had enough pointless repitition in my labors. My car had a gps built in, with exits clearly marked alongside estimated distance between when on an interstate. Handy when visibility went on vacation. I'd been driving in the wet roar about three points of a mile when off to my right, I saw a car. Was that...? I couldn't see well at all, but I saw silver. There was no lightning , and my headlights wouldn't allow me to see much outside their cone. She probably had to leave it there since yesterday.

I was rubbernecking, right until the impact. There was nothing to see, nothing to feel, really. The airbags went off, and physics granted my body the gift of all my car's seventy three miles an hour of inertia. Academically, I imagine things went well as they could, with crumple zones, seatbelts and the like. It was like an electric jolt, whiteness, and that funny smell/taste when someone pops you good in the nose. Maybe some pressure. All fast as somebody full-on smacking you up side your face with an open hand.

The dog was barking. Really going off. He didn't quit when I sat up and patted him. His hackles we're rigid as a hedgehog, and and the growl was throaty as a cornered pup ready to fight for life. I clutched his head and made him look at me, and finally, the stiffness went out of him. I'm the dim nightlight, he looked me in the eye and whined.

"Hey buddy! What's a matter?" I asked softly. His mum was snoring with enthusiasm, unstirred. His tail actually went between his legs as he sat there, which was novel, and something I hadn't figured he could do. But he was stressed and it took some petting before he calmed down. I crawled out of bed, threw my robe on and took him for a potty walk. He pissed and shat and we came in and lay back down. He was better.

As I drifted back off to sleep, he softly started whining again.