The neighbors scream and my time is lean

A Chapter by john

The first chapter and an intro to the rest.

Mark gazed at his window he gave a dour look of dissatisfaction with what he saw, noting the commotion outside the sounds blasted into his ears. His neighbors were having another heated argument right outside of his driveway at dusk, when most people would be inside their house watching t.v or at least not make everyone else exasperated.

“You play your music at ten in the evening do you not see that people need to f*****g sleep. How am I and everyone else supposed to sleep if you keep that up?” Maya his infuriated neighbor said in an obnoxious tone making all forms of rest impossible.

“Maybe if you didn’t always scream about it we could get some!” Tim who was a broad shouldered man that always wore a wife beater and had a beer parked right beside him in a koozie.

“Look who’s talking you think That you are making…….” This could on for hours and it usually did but today was not that day mark screamed out his window “shut the f**k up for once”. The reaction to this was immediate and not at all subtle they were caught in the surprise of this man of small stature so soft spoken say something so brazen. Not another word was spoken did there need to be another? he said it all in one sentence what had meant for months of lost sleep.

When mark woke from his stupor he saw the light glimmering down on his bed from a small window his only window in fact. He looked around anxiously something had to be done but he didn't what but it seemed awfully important for some aberrant reason he knew something was not being done.

He looked over again to his other neighbor Delilah fast at work on her usual projects not as obnoxious as the other people that seemed to clump around purposely just to rattle Marks nerves. She was a little old lady type character but was not one to keep to herself she always seemed out and about always so kinesthetic so unexpected for someone that could qualify for any senior benefits you could possibly name.

She saw mark and another dour look was given out by mark who thought

“Why did I even try to see the sunlight for once!”

“How is your job going at the library read any good books?”

“Totally some GREAT books thanks for asking”

“That’s great”

She said clearly not hearing the obvious sarcasm of his voice. This reminded mark of how he had a job that he had to go to at some point and now he were thirty minutes late to it now because of the careless day dreams he was having.

Rummaging through his dresser he found his keys grabbing them he screamed

“OWW!”

His hand got stuck on the side of the dresser when he was closing it. And now it was great start to a great day he was obviously going to have. So not having even time for screaming agony he left his squalid apartment.

Going out to his beat up 1990 jeep so rippled with dings it was sundry to mention them.

Driving down the aimless freeway with all the other hapless people driving along the same asphalt roads in the same town in the same state he had known for so long. He began to notice the car next to him cut him off and then started driving twenty miles under the speed limit already in a rush he started honking his horn at the senile old man that seemed to not realize that going so slow all the way to an exit ramp isn't the best way to make friends on the open road.

Suddenly through all these trials just to get a job that seemed to loath him He saw his opportunity to gun his chunk of metal faster to beat the other face in the mirror and took it. But by the time he get there he was fifteen minutes later than he could imagine himself to be.

Parking his car he couldn't help bit noticed the head librarian bill's small Porsche boxster parked in two parking spots that were both handicapped parking. Walking in he was greeted with the irascible but all too familiar sounds him rattling on about some “issue” Braving into the abyss that was his job bill worked his most in-passionate shirk to scream.

“you have some serious balls to miss fifty minutes of work Mr. aryn! Now you have to work overtime”

“sir I have no excuse I'm sorry”

“what did di di... did you just say you were sorry! I would be sorry for myself too if I was thirty minutes late!

“I already said I was sorry Sir I will make up the time”

“Oh you will boy Oh you will!.”

After hearing to esoteric rantings of his narcissistic slash micromanaging boss he went to the station. Where he did what all great men do sit on a chair in the “thinker” position and feel utterly bored out of his already unhappy mind. Within a minute of this his first customer, a child of about nine walked up.

“Do you know what uncouth means?” said the small child who had a plethora of freckles dotted on his small ruddy face.

“Sure go look at my boss for the definition he is a walking dictionary for it!” Mark said this with a dry wit and an unending desire for this day to be through so could go to his one Pulchritudinous love, The canvas.

Mark by day a lowly librarian but by afternoon slash whatever time his neighbors were not making noise pollution a painter or he imagined himself as one. And while all this was going on he was completely in his own world ostracized for a short time from the real one.

He thought to himself with no consideration for the outside world daydreaming again thinking about an endless canvas to paint for all time and a thought rang in his head that seemed to echo a truth that been with him since he left high school .

“There comes a time when you are no longer productive at a job you hate for me that was nine thirty and my job starts at nine.”

“Mark! Mark Aryn!” sleeping on the job I should fire you right now!!”

Said bill in a most authoritarian tone he could muster for a man that was so short and so lifeless it seemed comical for him to think he had complete control of everyone when he couldn't control himself. This was what Marks life revolved around bills screaming at him and Mark getting up every morning questioning why he did it for the Money? He could find a better job that payed more, The people? No comment because It has already been explained I believe it was the apathy he had for work and the laziness that he seemed to garner over the years of caring so much about his dreams but only to have them fall down like a Icarus and his tar paper wings.

By the time his misery subsided due to acute job being over. He went back to his car to discover key marks scratched into his car with bills completely untouched to hieroglyphics read something of “Ernasda” or something that he could not easily Decipher. If mark had a reason to question the futility of the human race he not did because the justice that was being dished out onto his car seemed completely unjustified considering that his car already had so much damage that it looked like a bombing run went strait in the path of his car. I assume that he got over the initial shock and went along his way pretending it didn't happen because his said it did but his pride wouldn't let happen.