Professor Wu is going to kill me.

This is the third time this month I've been late for school, and I can't afford another tardy. No! No! No! Why did I have to stay up so late playing that goddamn video game! If only I had set a second alarm! If only my alarm wasn't so quiet! If only I had someone to wake me up! If only I didn't sleep!

But I do, and I did, so now I'm fucked. Shit. What the hell am I going to do? Maybe I still have time. What time is it? 7:17. Nope. It's too late. I'm as fucked as fuck gets.

Welp, better just give up now. No reason to keep on living in a world without a reason. Might as well just kill myself now. It's not like I'm gonna live till dinner anyways. Goodbye cruel cruel world. Oh, why do you have to be so cruel? I never did much of anything wrong, did I? I've followed the rules and been a good boy. Why do bad things always have to happen to beautiful people? Why?

The reverberation of a high-pitched bell echoes across the small poverty stricken apartment, scratching with weary due diligence over and over and over. Oh, what does it much matter? There's nothing I can do about anything! Without school I'm...I'm...well I'm just a regular old boring human being! Shit! I was doing so well, too.

The bell's lackluster ring continues haphazardly, time incurring no deterrence. Shit. I guess I better answer the door.

"Chuck?"

"Charley!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same question!" Chuck teases with a knowing grin and a small pair of almond eyes.

"I woke up late, that's all."

"Sure...sure...3 hours late?"

"I had a rough morning."

"Sure...sure..."

"I did!"

"Hey, I'm not judging ya lad! In fact, I was hoping you'd be home." The thick barrel of an Irish accent tenses with confidence.

"Why?"

"Well, lad, I think I might need a'bit of help, if you know what I mean."

"I don't."

"Ohhh, sure ya do! I've been trying to move this piano all week!"

"I can't help you. Not today. Like you said, I'm late for class."

"Oh, don't you worry a'bit about that. There will always be time for studying!"

"I'm not missing class...not again...Plus, didn't you see the weather forecast?"

"Oh, such a silly thing as weather has never stopped me before!"

"Well it should."

"Come on, lad! I need ya help! And real quick, too. You know how these things can be!"

"Where are you even gonna take it?"

"Oh, ya know, the old piano tuner on 4th! I've heard she's the best in the country!"

"I think the piano tuner is supposed to come to you."

"Haha! Don't be so silly, lad! We don't have time for your shenanigans!"

"Well I still have to get dressed."

"Nonsense, you look perfectly fine!"

"These are pajamas."

"Good enough for me!" No amount of reason will do much now. Once he knows something, he knows nothing. There's no reason to argue. If I ever want to make it to school again, it's better I just play along.

"So, lad, how've ya been? It's been so long since I've seen ya!"

"I saw you yesterday, remember? We had dinner at Loggers."

"And what a mighty fine meal that was!"

"So where is this piano place, anyways?"

"I already told ya, lad! On fourth street!"

"But where?"

"Oh, I don't know any bout that stuff! I just know it's on fourth!"

"Fourth street is ten miles long!"

"That's why we have this!" Chuck's fingers protrude in nervous excitement as he reveals his newest prized possession, an old, beat up, rust colored truck. Probably some 150 years old.

"Where did you get this?" I ask, my mouth agape.

"Oh, well, ya know. I've always had a knack for bargaining!"

"Bargaining! These things were outlawed some 100 years ago! Even if you could find one, how the hell did you pay for it?"

"Like I said, I'm a good bargainer."

"You stole it?!"

"Well, lad, when you put it like that, it sounds like I'm a thief or something!"

"You are! In fact, that's the very definition! It's one thing if you stole a pack of gum or some stickers or something like that, but...but...but this?! Even if you did pay a fair price for it, you know their illegal! We could go to jail for this!"

"You worry too much, lad! It's just a truck! We'll have it back to its rightful owner in no time."

That's a lie, but I fuel the Irish flame no more. He may be a lying cheating son-of-a-bitch, but he's my lying cheating son-of-a-bitch, and that's what friends are for, right?

"Well, what about the weather?" My voice cracks.

"What about it?"

"Well you know how dangerous it can be."

"You worry too much, lad! Just get in the car!"

After several minutes of foolish inspection, I grasp the cold handle, realizing one must pull, not push, and hop inside, studying the many gears and gadgets which I have never seen before. I don't know a thing about cars, but I know their dangerous, and this one sure as hell looks fast.

"Are you sure we should..."

"Of course I'm sure, lad! This piano's gotta get tuning! You know how it is when they don't get tuned!"

I did. I do. And that's not something I want to recognize.

The car starts without complaint, Chuck's swollen feet testing each pedal for assurance and safety, pressing and pulling and leveraging. Chuck grabs a large, rotund handle, sitting complacently between our two chairs, and the truck jerks forwards, bumping and pausing and jumping all along the way.

Now I'm not gonna lie, I don't get scared easily or anything, but sitting in this car, well, it's the most terrifying experience to have ever happened to anyone. And chucks inexperience doesn't much help.

For one thing, Chuck keeps moving this big stick I told you about earlier, and each time he presses or pulls the truck makes this real loud clunk clunk clunk sound and I jump and squeal and insist that that just doesn't seem right. But Chuck's stubborn ways and hard head won't take criticism worth a damn, not even from God. So I just sit there quietly and await the inevitable.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That! That...that...that clicking sound."

"It's just the car, me boy!"

"No not that, the clicking sound! It sounds like....it sounds like..."

"Like what, me boy?"

"Oh shit..."

Bleak shadows roll silently across long emptied fields in hesitant sways, edging and crawling and sprinting and floating. The sun cowers with fright under a rock or behind the sky or above the clouds or anywhere else. The blackness of night strikes the day with the ferocity of a boxer's first punch. Yet even in the darkness the shadows sway with a maleficence all their own. Black against black the shadows swerve, edging closer, closer, closer. The weathermen were right.

The jubilant cry of monstrous screeches stretch across the land with the meek eeriness of knowing. Welp, this is it. This is the end. Why do I even bother? I guess I had a pretty good life. It really wasn't all that bad. That is, up till now. This is going to be hell.

"What's going on?!" Chuck snarls with the first sense of fright.

"I told you the weather was going to be bad."

Chuck's Irish eyes widen with the meager understanding of meaning, a white face turning ever whiter with fear. "Oh shit."

Creatures begin to prod with the teasing ignorance of knowledge, poking and punching and rocking and kicking.

Fingers brush the worn dashboard as they dig deeper and deeper into the black leather chair, eyes pried shut with unbeknownst fear and common agitation and meager acceptance. Chuck doesn't say a word but I know he's stopped driving. The car edges to a halt and the bumps continue to prod.

Each smack of titanium aches weary muscles, causing an instinctual jump and a pathetic whimper. At first, the car withstands the brutal punishment, but like all good things, it comes to an end, with deep round divots protruding ominously inward.

Kaklunk. Kaklunk. Kaklunk. The once sleek metal begins to tear. Chuck says nothing. I offer no blame. I should be mad. I should be furious. He's the reason I'm here. He's the reason I'm not at school, or home, or god, anywhere else. I knew I was going to die. But I didn't know it'd be like this.

I wonder if they'll count me tardy?