Apathetic Dan

He looked from the grey running shoes with red piping and matching paint drips to the faux croc sandals in gator green. He put the toe from his right foot into the opening of his left sock, preparing an evacuation from the surely pungent articles, but then thought twice and brutally stuffed his feet back into the still tied shoes.  It would have been extraordinarily easy for him to untie the shoes and slide his feet in as he had been practicing the task for the last 32 years.  Dan was the sort that seemed to enjoy making things difficult for himself though, so he ground his feet into the once nice reeboks, decreasing both their monetary and practical value just a bit more than was really necessary. If only he had untied his shoes when he took them off, he wouldn't be in this predicament.

"Curse you, past Dan", Dan thought.

He stepped outside, closing the locked door behind him then checking his pocket for his keys.  I warned you that he was a bit of a trainwreck, didn't I? The keys were on the kitchen counter where he'd put them in preparation of leaving the house.  That was just where they needed to be for Dan to kick off a spectacularly awful morning. He deserved it.  Dan thought the world owed him something a little different though.  To be precise, Dan thought the world owed him a cool twenty.  

The world had allegedly snatched said twenty by way of a wind gust 6 months before and it was simply the last straw for him.  Alexander Hamilton had promised to buy him a meal prepared so quickly that it defied you to call it food, then suddenly departed without a word. 

 The waiting woman in the window winced. Dan didn't need to look in his wallet.  He couldn't afford a wallet. Dan had been to anger management classes before. Well, the first half of one class.  He'd learned a technique to calm himself in times like this, but it had frustrated him to have people telling him what to do, and he had relieved the coffee machine of its duties then politely complied with the request of his departure. Dan closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath.  This felt good.  He opened his eyes as the twenty danced gleefully over the curb and sidewalk, and onto the busy thoroughfare.

Dan was a slow learner. He turned the wheel and followed, giving Wanda a nice story to tell at parties for many many years.  When a car like Dans jumps a curb, it is less like an actual jump and more like a minor car crash.  Luckily, the airbag had not been replaced since last February, and he scraped into the morning commute.  Dan had always had a talent for spectacular incorrectness, and his talent shone that day like a dented sedan sideways in traffic. He had made up his mind, and only thought 'They'll move' in regards to the surprised drivers around him.  

We must grudgingly admit that he was right, though it seems little recompense.  

The merry chase lead across another pothole* and onto a fortunately vacant soccer field. It was a good thing for footballers that Dan lived in America. Dan caught up with the bill as it scored one for the home team.  He leapt out of the car as he entered the goalie box and walked with a grim steadiness that he hoped conveyed how mad he was about the bill's behavior.  He plucked it from the net and stuffed it into his pocket with a vindictiveness that surely taught both the money and the pocket a lesson they would not soon forget. 

 Climbing back into the car, he casually noticed some kind of ruckus on the road behind him.  He thought himself wise for noticing, and headed across the sidelines and through the playground instead.  Later that day, he checked his pocket found that the bill was lost.  Past Dan was really shirking some responsibility these days, Dan sullenly thought.  After he'd sat in quiet refection over a bowl of wet ramen noodles**, he had delivered his ultimatum to the universe out loud.  It needed to be aloud, he reasoned, because the universe had no place inside his head.  Either the infinite forces of nature paid up, or Dan just simply would not anymore.  He had made a long mental list of the things he would not, but had lost track.  He was already quite accomplished in the field of not doing things, and the amount of things he would not do increased daily.  

He would not be able to get to work on time, which meant he'd likely be out of work. Mr. McDonald and his associates were not reputed to be discriminate in their hiring practices, but Shawn M., Dan's boss, would be most pleased to exercise his power to terminate.  Shawn M. was petty and immature, and didn't care for the way that Dan looked down on him, but that was to be expected from most 17-year-old boys.  The loss of income would mean the loss of the apartment.  At the moment, this made Dan happy.  To him, it meant that he was no longer responsible for keeping things nice. 

 The huge landscaping brick might have been overkill, but Dan was not one for half measures.  He retrieved the keys and stuffed a few of his belongings and all of the ramen into a backpack.  Thoughtfully, he left the keys to the apartment on the counter for the landlord to find, but double thoughtfully kept the spare he had made.  One never knew when they would feel the need to return home.  He left through the window to give the new portal a reason to exist.  As a bonus, the front door would stay locked that way.  Dan was not great at seeing the big picture.  

Only a few minutes had passed since finding himself locked out, but he had already made another of his famously bad decisions.  He had had enough of this job and this place anyway.  It was time to forge a new path.  He would be a pioneer in his expectation for all of the pieces of his life to fall into place on their own, and he wouldn't start living until they had. 

 The air in the car was a bit stifling without air conditioning though, and he reflected that if he drove with no destination in mind it was just the same as not moving at all.  The notion of driving 'til he ran out of gas, wind blowing his hair in the wide sunlit lanes of the American Midwest seemed like the slow-motion title sequence of a movie about hope and overcoming adversity.  He liked that kind of show, though he lacked the interest and motivation to emulate the themes. After watching every season of Star Trek, the Next Generation he had cried that it was over and made himself feel better by binge watching it again.  Now he was his own captain and crew, and he was boldly setting forth as the first warning bell rang. 

"We're low on fuel, Captain" he told himself as he turned at the end of the block.  

The engine sputtered, stopped, and then did nothing else. He rolled to the side of the rural highway 20 miles or so out of town.  He checked to see if the horn still worked.  It worked even after several rechecks and experimental rhythms.  Dan was not angry anymore.  He took great satisfaction in a machine that still worked after he raged at it. 

Dan finally noticed the building and neon sign across the highway from him, not 500 meters from where he sat.  It did not look much like the million dollar gentlmens club the sign endorsed it as, but who was he to judge how people spent their money.  An uneventful highway crossing like no other and he was there.  After a brief consultation from Bob, the greeter of the establishment, it was decided that Dan should not be allowed to enter under any circumstance except the one in which Dan pays Bob twenty United States dollars.  Dan thought that this is just the sort of thing that happened to him right when he had found something he wanted to do. He put out a call to the deities of modern earth, pledging his sincere and austere belief to their cause, even throwing in an offer this time to accept the establishment of said religion.  He went through the religions patiently, allowing a reasonable amount of time for a miracle from each while searching the gravel parking lot and surrounding highwayside for some cheddar. 

 There was almost a conversion to the Great Old Ones of Cthulu, but it had turned out to be a losing lottery ticket printed to look like currency.  That was a close call, because the establishment of Cthulu is insane.  He found no dollars, and thus no religion.  "Proof enough!", said he, as he headed back to the car to search it again. 

This time, he checked the glovebox, but he only found loose change and a harmonica.  Perhaps Bob could be tamed with a soulful tune.  Dan would have to learn one.  He put the items in his pocket and walked back to the highway. He would certainly have to walk a very long way to get to somewhere.  It wasn't quite the same as driving with the wind in your hair.  It was more like walking on pavement that melts your shoes while carrying a backpack of your worldly possessions, most of which are ramen noodles***, for a great distance with no particular destination or survival skills.  It was not long before a patrol car pulled onto the shoulder ahead. The two officers tried to make small talk, but Dan wasn't feeling chatty, so he got in their back seat. How had they found him? Bob must have talked.  Man that guy really took things personally. If he was ever wealthy enough for the Million Dollar Gentlmans Club, he thought he'd put in a word to have Bob removed from duty. 

At first his situation seemed dire, the officers seemed awfully frustrated with him.  He didn't dignify their questions with any response. Dan realized suddenly that things were happening to him without his having to lift a finger. Past Dan must have finally done something right, he thought as he headed to an excellent locale for doing absolutely nothing. 

*pothole is Dan's word for curbs and sidewalks when using his "insurance words". Dan had his own complex variations on contemporary language.

**a recent fluctuation in utility coverage for unpaid accounts had removed "hot" from the description of Dan's meals.

***but not cup-o-ramen...  the cheaper ones.  The ones you put in a bowl to cook.  Not a single one of Dan's possessions would serve as a bowl or even as a plate, as he had been full while packing his bags. 

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This weird romp was trying at comedy, though I think with only moderate success.  I think its more successful as a kind of story I usually don't care for, the everything goes wrong for our protagonist.  At least here, Dan hardly notices.  I wanted it to be weird and i wanted to be clever in the writing of it. There are at least a couple of weird and clever things i liked in there.  I felt like being weird, and i feel cathartic about it, so things will prolly return to normal tonight.  One thing is for certain though:  Dan is the worst.