Good Morning (500 Friday)

            One day Jeremiah was driving to work and he got stuck behind a street sweeper. It was loud and he could see the dark grey exhaust pouring out of its backside. He drove along on the very clean street at five miles an hour, cursing the whole way.

            “Goddamn traffic sweeper thing in my way!”

            It turned down a different residential street, and his way was clear. He floored it. Soon he was at 7-11, picking up Shawn and purchasing their customary morning slushies. He got blue raspberry, like he sometimes liked to. Shawn was also mad because apparently on the way to the 7-11 a biker had run through a puddle right next to him, splashing all kinds of mud ovals on his pants. He had run back home to change, and luckily Jeremiah was late because of the street sweeper.

            “That bike dude was a turd.”

            They got on the highway and chose to rock out to AC/DC. They were still a little mad or something, and Jeremiah got to speeding. He was going fifteen over swerving around a VW bug when a cop appeared behind them and started flashing its lights.

            “That thing was nowhere! It came from the sky!”

            The cop was nice because Jeremiah gave him his half-empty slushie. As they drove away he pounded fists with Shawn in an exasperated and relieved way.

            “We sure are lucky sometimes.”

            Off the freeway again, they saw some abandoned sofas on the exit ramp. The foam was showing through most of the cushions and it was black.

            “Yo remember that, I want that flowery one.”

            The light, like normal, went green twice for the other two directions before finally letting them through. A BMW with a clear case of young professional road rage was right behind them, flashing her brights the instant the light changed. She honked several times over the next two blocks and changed lanes four times, but still she was behind them.

            “OK lady! Take some of this!”

            He braked hard then accelerated, then repeated that for several minutes. She finally took a side street. They were grinning because it was fun. Until they noticed what time it was, because the little glowing digits read 9:11.

            “Work starts at nine!”

            “No crap!”

            “Plus 9:11 is unlucky!”

            They were only three blocks away and had to sit at each red light and watch mattress and sandwich salesmen walk out onto the street corners and adjust their body signs. One held his up for a few minutes before he crawled into it so that he could know exactly what he was selling with his body. It was a five dollar foot long. They pulled into the parking lot and somehow both managed to slam the edge of the sport jacket into the car door.

            “Damn!”

            “Damnit!”

            “Shut up!”

            And right when they were getting out of the car the clouds decided to let loose a brief fluster of rain.

            “Wet!”

            Then the day started.