Friday

Friday

Imagine

Inside the silver sedan is incredibly dark, parked in a shadowy parking space at a gas station. The street lights have long since gone dark, keeping the car hidden in said shadows. The car is rocking a little bit as very faint groans can be heard coming out of it. The camera begins to pan away from the car and slowly towards the building of the gas station. From the front door, a man exits as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pants pocket. He’s dressed in a red collared shirt under a black coat, his name tag reading Eddie and black, grease resistant pants. He screws in a cigarette between his lips, lighting and taking a large drag off of it. He holds his breath in for a moment before releasing it, looking to the lights over the pumps. Turning his head down either direction, he notices the street lights are cut off. He raises an eyebrow and walks out, passing the pumps to look down the street, seeing that the road is nearly unseeable.

Eddie: Geeze, they working on the lines or something?

Turning around and walking back, he notices the car moving in the parking lot, covered by the shadows. His brow narrows as he tries to look into the car, being able to make out what looks like a person facing downwards at the seat. Eddie sighs heavily and heads over to the car, knocking on the trunk and trailing the knocking up the back windshield and to the roof.

Eddie: C’mon, guys. You can’t be doing this here.

He waits for a second at the back door, standing in the shadow the building casts as it blocks the overhead gas pump lights. However, the car is still rocking as faint heavy breathing can be heard from within the car. Eddie grows more aggravated as he makes his way to the driver’s side of the car and angrily knocks on the window.

Eddie: Hey, I told you to cut it the fuck out!

He looks into the window and sees what looks to be a couple having relations inside the car. However, the person on top turns it’s head and reveals it’s face. It’s skin is gray and sagging, long wisps of hair on it’s head, it’s eyes milky and dead while void of any lips as it bears its teeth and gives an other worldly shriek at Eddie. The person below this thing is a man, wearing a security guard uniform with the nametag Graham pinned to his breast pocket, his throat torn out and bleeding down his chest. Eddie’s eyes goes wide as he backs away frantically, calling out in fear. He trips on the curb leading up to the sidewalk, falling backwards and square onto his butt. He continues to back away from the car, calling out loudly and in fear. With his back to the building now, he tries to stand up, but from the darkness of the bushes to his left, he’s blindsided by something that just appears to be a blur. The camera pans away and over to the gas pumps slowly as Eddie’s screams can be heard more until a wet, ripping sound ends them. The scene goes quiet once more, the camera slowly looking up at the fluorescent lights just as they flicker.

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

The camera is zoomed in on Joe’s face, showing his watery and red eyes, his unshaven face with dark stubble populating his upper lip, his chin and jaw, but sparsely on either of his cheeks. The song plays over the scene with Joe’s mouth hanging open, as if he’s only focusing on breathing and nothing else. The camera then begins to slowly pan out as he brings a beer bottle to his lips; tilting his head back to finish it off. The camera cuts to an overhead view, showing Joe reach up and back over his head to gently drop the empty beer bottle in the porcelain sink, populated by more empty beer bottles. His knees are up while sitting on the ground, the bright lights above the sink enhanced by the white walls and fake tiled floor. Joe’s full body is now seen with unkempt, dark brown curly hair that looks to be a couple inches long and dressed in a pair of blue plaid boxers, white and grey socked feet and a blue t-shirt covering his overweight, out of shape physique. Joe grabs his last beer bottle out of a six pack to his immediate left; twisting the top while using his t-shirt as a grip.

Joe (V.O.): Remember when you were young, in high school and people would ask you what you’d be doing when you were 25?

He takes a long swig of his beer, gulping down a lot of it before bringing it back down and releasing a breath. His head lurching forward and twisting as if he has to power it down.

Joe (V.O.): I bet none of you would ever think that you’d be piss drunk in your bathroom about to swallow a big bottle of…

With Joe’s other hand, he brings a large open bottle of painkillers up to his mouth and starts to swallow half the contents of the bottle.

Joe (V.O.): … and there I go… Oh well, I had a good run.

Joe’s arms go drunkenly limp as the hand he has the pill bottle in falls from his mouth and hits the floor hard; a few brown colored pills scattering across the light tile floor. The look on Joe’s face shows drunken fatigue and semi relief as he starts to breath heavier, the camera slowly starting inward to his face again. His legs and socked feet slip across the floor and fall to either side causing his hand with the beer to tip over, beer flowing out and onto the floor.

Joe (V.O.): I guess this would be a great time to reflect on why I’m doing this. Sure, I have my best friends, Dan and Graham. I even have a girlfriend; Katelyn. Thing about that is that’s pretty much all I have. I don’t have a job; I don’t have my own place to live. This is honestly the worst I’ve ever looked in my fucking life; fat and lost muscles in my arms. To clarify, that means I can’t lift anything heavy anymore. Great leg strength though, since all I do is walk. There’s a perfectly good Blazer sitting in the parking lot with a full tank of gas and $50 to my tainted name.

Joe’s eyelids are starting to get heavy and his deep breaths slowly start to sound more like panting.

Joe (V.O.): Essentially exiled to a small town, barely any family to call my own and a broken sense a purpose to boot.

His eyelids begin to flutter, trying to stay awake as two tears run down each cheek.

Joe (V.O.): Oh well… no one has to worry about that anymore. After all, there needs to be less people like me around and more… useful people.

Joe stops fighting and his eyelids begin to slowly stop fluttering; his erratic panting having slowed down considerably. His eyes then slowly shut and his breathing slows to a crawl before he inhales… holding it for a second before it quietly creeps out, rolling out from his lips.

Joe (V.O.): At least I can finally sleep well…

The camera fades to black as the song fades out. The ringing of utter silence is all that can be heard in the void. Three bass thuds can be heard in the quiet, but goes silent again. The three thuds come back harder, but goes silent again. Suddenly the sound of a slap across a hair covered head can be heard as Joe opens his eyes and reaches back to rub the back of his head. He looks up and sees a