First I was driving home from work. The sun was rising in the west. I was on Platte heading downtown. Something's in the street and I really can't make anything out because of the long shadows of the trees. That's when I see what looks like parts of Pee Wee Herman dolls wearing brown clothes rather than gray in the street. Jumbled, broken body parts and sundered torsos are scattered on the street. My back tire hits something that makes a loud thump and succumbs to the pressure in a nauseating way. Suddenly I am no longer driving and the company president's brother who used to be a figurehead collections manager is driving the car. Much to my horror this gives me a front row seat of what's happening on the road. Nearing Hancock I spot something in the road and start chanting for him to slow down or stop. Like an idiot he looks at me and asks why. The car skids over a carpet of bodies in brown Pee Wee Herman suits. He vomits over the steering wheel and I black out.

Back at work. My car has been cleaned of the puke. I was hoping there'd still be puke and I could finagle a cleaning job for the front driver's seat that'd take care of its present waking life situation. Back inside Sourpuss is stalking around saying there's going to be a test regarding our jobs as processors in that tone of voice meant to be extremely dire. What I can recall is that it had something to do with flagging accounts and what each flag does to an account. I figure it's easy enough, complete and submit it. Everyone else has brought their chairs into a circle and they're whispering amongst themselves wondering what the hell is going to happen now like scared abused children.

Sourpuss comes out with the scores. She's disappointed with some and that's all she can say is something negative, as usual. My test says 100% but looking closely I can see the indentations of penmarks on the upper right hand corner that gives the impression that I had gotten a 95% and a gift of 5 points was given to me for some unknown reason. My stomach sinks.

The office clears out, I'm talking with Don Rickles who is being an asshole. He's drinking coffee with a straw and flicking coffee at me with the straw. We're waiting for raddidge who is coming to pick us up. Our next stop is the mall where Mr. Rickles is having his black and white television repaired. Upon her arrival he remarks that she looks Canadian and would be amazing in porn. I am confused and don't know what to say. raddidge is swatting me and admonishing me that she's been here for ten minutes already and we're still not on our way. As we're leaving I see that Don had already picked up his TV.

Outside it's a gray day, thickly overcast, fog everywhere. raddidge gets in my car and starts it up telling me to wait because she'll drive around and pick me up. The car is parked on the wet grass and now I'm worried if there's going to be enough traction. raddidge backs up, rolls onto the asphalt and starts to make a u-turn to head for the parking lot exit. My car is slipping backwards and the brakes are working but the tires aren't gripping the ground. She's going downhill heading towards a car that's parked facing a ridge. Somehow she's able to get the car to turn and when it strikes the other car, the passenger side gets the damage. Already I'm calculating the hit from insurance in my head. raddidge is getting out, waving at me letting me know she's alright. Rolling down the grassy slope is Don Rickle's car. Of course it's actually rolling, someone flipped it and it's tumbling like a die right towards raddidge. My stomach drops into something cold. raddidge gets back into the car and scrambles before impact.

I force myself awake and check the time. 6:01 a.m. 10/5/07. Now it's 6:22 a.m. and time to get ready for my horrible day job.