Dave is going to kill me. The pen just keeps twirling in my hand. I'm hyper, sitting in the IHOP booth, closing on midnight. The pen flips once in the air, pauses briefly amongst my fingers, and sets off again. I don't even know what to write on myself.
The pen flips twice in the air, then three times. I'm still sort of bouncing. Dave threatens my life again. I don't think he can handle me when I'm hyper. Flip, flip, flip goes the pen in my hand.
I push away the empty chocolate milk glass, and try to figure out why I'm here. I don't even know why I got three pancakes instead of five. The question just came out of nowhere, I guess. Three or five? Blindsided. Right out of nowhere. I really didn't expect this. The pancakes are so delicious, and I can't decide what to write on myself.
My mind is racing, along with my mouth and my pen. Dave is going to kill me. Vonnegut said something once...
No wonder kids grow up crazy... Well, he was right.
Flash forward a month and a half, when I'm drawing a brontosaurus on my arm because it reminds me of something pleasant. I think about how I lost one game, how I cheated at another, and how right now I finally feel like winning.
It's the strangest thing.
Back in the parking lot, I'm taking photos with long exposures. Propped on someone's car, some keys, and a few dollar bills, the view becomes crisp. I don't think Dave enjoys standing out in the cold, but he doesn't argue with my mindset, so he just waits, not killing me for a while.
The pen twirls through the air, and sideways across the car as we take a sharp curve. Groundhog day keeps repeating in my mind, and as usual, I have very little coherent to say. There is a tiny brontosaurus on my wrist, and that makes me far happier than I could explain anyway.
---
Sunspots cast a glare in my eye.
Nine Inch Nails, "Sunspots"
Song of the day 
