It was early Sunday and I was ready to treat the world. I live in a relatively ignorant

neighbourhood. I happen to have myself only managing to get a minimum wage job at a local

fast food joint nearby. The burger shack. But this morning I was going to help educate

the area on real music. I whipped up my guitar, plugged it into the amp and aimed it out

the window. I gave it a gentle pat, the tinge of reverb muttering from the speaker, but

just as it was about to pound out some classic riffs, my neighbours alarm clock went off,

and it all came rushing back to why I hate living here. The worst of the worst music one

could think of shut out from my neighbours open window and immediately sent me back. I

fell from the window lip and always knocked my guitar. Good morning Stephen, want to go

squirrel catching? He screamed from his window. This was a strange sport he seemed to

relish in. I catch him and his friend doing this in the spare time and they seemed fascinated

by it. So much so that they seem to always think I'd want to end on the action. I wanted

to respond right away with a firm no, but I was still on my back. However, this was

enough for invitation. Great, we'll be right over. Oh no, I thought, no, no, no, no,

no, I'm motted to myself. I sent my guitar down when I heard some knocks on the door.

They were here. I wonder who that could be. I sarcastically thought to myself. I opened

the door and there they were. Goofy looks in their faces. Absolute absence behind their

eyes. I never know if they're strong upon junk 24-7, but they float about in life and

have absolutely no issue with that. Ready to go, said Sean. Sean was short and stocky

and always wore shirt, even when not working. Someone was told him to always dress for the

job you want, but with none of the actual advice on how to act on it. He too works in the

burger shack. Always overdressed for the job. His friend was next to him. Patton, my other

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