It was just a normal visit to the retail store. He wore a dark grey hoodie. No print, No badge. The streets were silent, those were the ones he preferred. His battered shoes sloshed in the wet pavement. He had a bag in hand, with some energy drinks, cereal and noodles. The air smelled of old cement. It was dull, so was he.

There was a splash, and silence, then another, then another. He crossed the street into the other side of the neighborhood. Larger compounds, family homes. It was late, and dark, and all the houses blended with the black night sky. The ambience was broken slightly as he passed one of the houses. There was a faint thud and a faint hint of luminance. He thought nothing of it, but it grew louder. He peered around and decided to take a look. If he was lucky, there was a party. If he wasn’t, he’d stumble into kids banging with their lights on.

Tonight, he was. He peered round and saw all sorts of colors painting the plain window panes. He heard people, he heard music. He ducked back, walked back a few steps, calmed his breath and walked forward with confidence, and turned a left right into the compound. He went and knocked on the door.

A rich teen opened the door. He had long blonde hair, clean shave, a mole below his lips. Good looking, not an ounce of personality. He was also too drunk to process anything. Rex simply lifted the bag up and smiled and the teen walked away from the door, inviting him in. Inside, there was a table with scraps of pizza, Budweiser, full and empty; Clean and broken, and a bunch of other food grime. To the left was the living room. Speakers, TV, music, lights. And shirtless teens. Too many to count. It was a nice house. Nobody paid attention to Rex. Everyone was lost in the music and inebriation. He looked around through the beer bottles, and the blonde came back. He lifted a bottle from the table, smiled. Rex then quickly filled his bag with a few. He also grabbed a slice of pizza. “Hey” the blonde said, his smile fading. Rex looked up, “Thanks for the bud, bud”. And then stormed out. The teen stumbled behind him “Hey! Who are you asshole?” Rex didn’t look back. The blonde attempted to run but stumbled and caught himself at the door. He then flipped off Rex and then slammed the door. By then, Rex was already far off.

He was too broke to buy his own beer. His life was too shitty to go without it. There were snips of hair starting to grow through his chin and cheeks, he hadn’t shaved in weeks. His eyes had cups of black under them and his hoodie smelled of an old rotting couch. He barely attended work in the last few weeks. He worked at a small fast-food joint. They were understanding of him and didn’t pressure him much.

Rex walked back home, his breath letting out cold air that nearly fogged. The door creaked open and the bag fell. There was a letter waiting for him on the floor. He closed the door behind him and picked up the letter. He walked to his chair and sat down with a groan.

He unfolded the damp paper.

 

Hey Rex,

I know times are tough, and I know I don’t pay ya shit. But come on man, it’s been 8 days. Business is tough without ya. I would ask you to come to work tomorrow, but heck, you’ll probably crumple this and throw it in the bin.

Find something to do in life Rex. Make something of yourself. It’s been nice knowin’ ya and I wish you good luck.

~Grease Balls.

 

His name was Mark. Rex called him Grease Balls because he’d always wipe his oily hands on his pants. And he was right, Rex did throw the letter in the bin. He walked over to his bag, grabbed a beer, walked to the kitchen, and picked up a rusty bottle opener. It was sitting on top of a note. He took a large gulp of the beer and relaxed. He glanced at the old note:

Rent due 1200$. Steal? Run?

Followed by a bunch of scratches and dots. It was an old apartment, and rent was cheap. But the months and the penalties were adding up.

He sat down, and let out a long sigh. He started to wonder what he would do. He was unemployed with a laptop, 40 Dollars and some stolen bottles of beer to his name. But he didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to give a fuck. So, he opened his laptop, opened up a game, and wasted the night drinking beer and playing games with random slacks like him online.

After drinking all three bottles of beer and with nearly 40 sleepless hours behind him, he fell asleep on his chair.