“Seriously” Steve declared, pausing to take a bite off of his particularly large slab of pizza, “Never underestimate someone’s ability to be an asshole.” The bright ballasts above were reflected in the little cups of cooked pepperoni that contained just the right amount of grease. Steve grabbed for his bottle of Mt. Dew, which sat still on the floor beside him waiting eagerly to please its owner with the odd, green colored fluid contained within, like so many of its carbonated ancestors before. The kid he was talking to was fiddling with his MP3 player. One ear bud perched comfortably in his left ear, while the other one dangled helplessly in front of his Toys R’Us work shirt like a bungee jumper whose friends left him hanging while they stood laughing safely above.
Just then the alarm on Steve’s watch went off. It was a KISS watch he had since he was a kid, which was really just
