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One day in the life of LRAM. Cut down trees and get paid!

Another Dollar

The midnight sun skips across the horizon.

It's 5:15 AM.

Who are you?

I am...

Jeff, the degenerate.

Forrest, the deplorable.

Patrick, the dejected.

Badger, the decayed.

Rob, the destroyed.

Kellen, the useless.

Another Day

Introduction

The brays of a donkey fills the room. You wake and dismiss the alarm for the third and final time.

Your bedside is empty. The wife, it seems, is out of town. Begin morning routines.

Text the boss.

Take a piss.

Get dressed.

Make breakfast.

Make coffee.

Make tea.

Take care of the dogs.

Take care of Kiska.

Take care of Oso.

Fuck it. Go to work.

Because of your utmost greed, you have made yet another breakfast.

You make a hearty breakfast burrito, topped with an entire stick of butter. You absolute glutton.

You make a pretty badass breakfast sandwich, toasted to perfection. You absolute glutton.

Instead of making breakfast, you decide to stop by Sunrise when you are on your way to work.

In your sleep-deprived folly, you attempt to put on another layer of clothes. You fool. Shakily, you put on your usual attire. It is unwashed and musty. Most excellent.

Every alarm in the house is blaring.

It's 7:12 AM.

FUCK!

You send a group message notifying everyone that you are on your way. Your replies vary with acceptance, incredulence, and outright mockery.

The succulent aroma of coffee fills your cabin.

You fumble around your kitchen and manage to make tepid, lukewarm tea.

Bobbi and Roscoe look at you with sad, puppy eyes. They haven't been fed since last night. Their bladders are half-full. As you stare down upon them, Roscoe shivers and whines in his kennel.

Let them outside.

Fill their water dish.

Fill their food dish.

Fuck it, they're fine.

The dogs look at you in mornful confusion.

You let Roscoe out of the kennel and allow them one bowl of putrid dog food apiece. They devour it in 1.2 seconds.

Bobbi lays back down on the beanbag while Roscoe continues to shiver pitifully. They have accepted their fate.

The dogs scamper out the door and into the frigid air. In their small, dog-like minds, they haven't seen the outdoors in nine months.

Bobbi pisses blood.

Roscoe immediately runs away.

Chase Roscoe, or give up and go back inside?

You call and threaten Roscoe with all your might. You yearn to beat the shit out of him, but he is gone and will not answer.

Go back inside.

The time is now 7:45 AM.

You lock Bobbi inside the kennel, just in case. Every day is a struggle.

Cursing the day, you get into your vehicle and drive away.

You get into the back of your mother's vehicle and allow her to strap you in, for safety. You can never be too safe. She turns on the radio and tunes to NPR. You listen contently as the radio men assure you that Trump is bad and a racist. You are so ready to get to work!

You mount your motorcycle and scoot off into the baleful morning. The "low gas" light is on once again. Bugs splatter your helmet.

You mount your motorcycle and scoot off into the baleful morning. The "low gas" light is on once again. Bugs splatter against your face and teeth. Maybe you should have worn your helmet.

The traffic is light this morning.

A soft hand carresses your face.

"It's time to get up, sweetie," your mother says. "I'll give you a ride to work today."

You blink and smile. Being your mother's favorite has its perks.

It's time to begin your morning routine.

You relieve your bladder and brush your teeth for good measure. Your bowels, on the other hand, can wait for work. It is your personal motto to always shit on company time.

You have LOST THE GAME.

By some unfortunate circumstance, you happened to wake up as Kellen. This means you have already failed at life. You might as well end it now and start over.

okay...

You are startled awake by Kiska's single, polite woof. Beer bottles clatter to the floor as you sift through your bedside for your phone. The time is 5:48 AM. A little later than you would like, but you should be able to manage getting to work on time.

You let Kiska outside to relieve himself. He dutifully does the deed while you fill his water and food dish. He's a good boy. It is now 6:09 AM.

Your watch vibrates, startling you awake. "FUCK!" you yell to the world, but no one listens. The blankets tangle your legs as you attempt to dismount the bed, spilling you onto the floor in a heap. Your head throbs in pain. You can't feel your arms. Your dick is hard.

The time is 6:06 AM. You barely have time to brush your teeth, take a piss, put on your armor, and go to work.

You struggle for several weary minutes as you put on your motorcycle outfit. Better safe than sorry. The time is 6:20 AM.

You feed your dog with scraps of decayed food. He then dutifully urinates outside while you go about your business.

It goes without saying, you aren't gonna make it to work on time. Drive fast or slow?

You battle the grind of traffic. You can feel the potential energy of every red light, ready to activate as soon as you approach. Fuck it. You have time to get gas and Sunrise. Or, just go to work like a responsible adult.

Fuck getting gas or Sunrise! Gotta go fast!

You run several red lights and pass many slowpokes on your way to work. The cops don't give a fuck.

You're late anyways, so you stop by Sunrise. What's the harm? You might as well grab cigarettes at the gas station while you're at it.

You arrive at Sunrise, and order two Bacon, Egg, and Cheese bagels.

The nice coffee lady, who-the-fuck-knows-her-name, speaks.

"Would you like a drink with that?"

"No, you say, "I don't have a cup holder."

She laughs. You kick the bike into gear and head off.

The time is 6:45 AM.

You arrive at Sunrise, and order two Egg and Cheese biscuits. They are cheap. TO BE CONTINUED

Before you leave, the coffee lady gives your body a good long look.

"Nice," she says. She smiles and hands you a piece of paper with her number on it. Score!

You have finished grabbing your morning refreshment. Would you like to get gas or go straight to work?

Holy fuck! You are about to piss yourself! Do you pull over or hold it?

FUCK.

You are out of gas, and stranded on the side of the Richardson. Traffic careens past you at high speeds, buffeting you with the piss stench of diesel exhaust fumes.

Call Jeff.

Call Patrick.

Call Forrest.

Call Rob.

You manage to get to work in the nick of time. You fumble with the connex combination lock. What's the combo?

You arrive just in time to see Badger lock his bike in the connex. You honk at his stupid face and he nods in agreement. You spend a minute rolling a new cigarette to enjoy in the brisk morning air. TO BE CONTINUED

You arrive just in time to see Badger lock his bike in the connex. You honk at his stupid face and he flexes back at you. You spend a minute rolling a new cigarette to enjoy in the brisk morning air. Outside,the ravens croak and chatter in their strange language as they perch on the powerlines overhead. A soft breeze tickles your body.

You see Jeff pull in. It is exactly 7:04 AM. He stares at you for a few moments, then rolls down his window.

"Patrick, I knew this day would come," he says.

You arrive late and everyone has been waiting on you for ages. Jeff threatens to fire you. TO BE CONTINUED

You arrive late and everyone has been waiting on you for ages. With a flourish, you sweep open the door of 5107 and prance in. But instead of the usual threats and greetings, you hear horrible, high -pitched screams. Mostly from Badger.

You just now realized that you fucked up big time.

You forgot to put on clothes this morning.

Aghast, you run outside and chase after your momma on Range road.

She is too far gone.

And Brenda is on her way behind you.

GAME OVER, MAN!

You arrive precisely at 7:04 AM. Patrick is leaning on his truck, smoking a hand-rolled Native Spirit. Ravens croak and chatter in their strange language as they perch on the powerlines overhead. 5107 is clearly unlocked, with the key still in the doorknob. That usually means that Badger is inside. Badger is a lazy bastard. TO BE CONTINUED

You arrive to work at 8:15 AM. You are so late it's not even funny. Everyone else is already inside. TO BE CONTINUED

You fucked up big time.

You forgot to put clothes on this morning. Someone saw you get out of your vehicle at the gas station and called the cops on you.

YOU HAVE BEEN ARRESTED. GAME OVER. DO NOT PASS GO.

Fuck! Why did I do that?

You fill up your vehicle with gas. Better than filling up in North Pole, a hellish place that loves taxes. Sunrise or work?

You fucking idiot. You should know this by now. What is the combo?

Nice. Got it. You store your motorcycle inside, safe and sound. Patrick arrives and honks angrily. You nod in agreement, and attempt to unlock 5107, LRAM's office.

TO BE CONTINUED

You fucking idiot. You should know this by now. What is the combo?

7602

6702

2706

2760

2607

0627

You fucking idiot. You should know this by now. What is the combo?

You fucking idiot. You should know this by now. What is the combo?

You fucking idiot. You should know this by now. What is the combo?

You ask your mom if she can pull over.

"I don't know, sweetie. Can I?"

Now you are pissed. Literally.

Your wet stench fills the air as your mom drives on with a moral high ground.

You pull over in time to release a thunderous stream upon the side of the road. A woman shrieks out the window as she drives by. This day is getting better by the minute!

You try to hold it, but end up pissing yourself. Nice going, genius. Guess you'll just have to suffer through work.

"Well yeah. Every day follows the other," you say. "I knew this day was coming too."

Jeff sighs, shakes his head, and rocks his body back and forth in agitation. He appears to be holding his tongue, yet ready to burst into speech. You take a long draw from your Native Spirit and say nothing.

Finally, Jeff screams.

"WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES?!"

Yes, you fucked up big time.

You forgot to put on your clothes this morning.

You shrug, as if to say, who gives a shit?

GAME OVER, MAN!

"What's up?" Jeff asks.

"Jeff! I'm out of gas!" You shout over the roar of traffic.

"Wow. Sounds like a personal problem."

beep.

Guess you'll have to call someone else.

"Ay," Forrest says. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Forrest! I'm outta gas!"

"Haha, oh wow! How you gonna get to work?"

"Give me a ride?"

...

"Sorry, no can do. Mom says no. See ya later, gator"

beep.

The phone rings, but Rob doesn't answer.

"Ayo."

"Patrick, you won't believe it."

"Aiight."

"I'm out of gas."

"Oh shit, yo."

"Think you can pick me up?"

"Yea. I see you."

"What?"

"I'm right behind you, yo."

You turn around and see Patrick veer off into the shoulder right behind your bike.

"She ran out on ya, huh?"

You notice that he is driving his girlfriend's Prius instead of his truck.

"I don't think Katie would want that thing in the back. It'll get all darty."

Fuck it. You'll just push it the rest of the way.

"Hold up, Badger. We can just pick you up in the work truck."

"Cool," you say. "Make it quick."

"Will do," Patrick says. The time is 7:07 AM.