Flamerman

Flamerman

Chuck woke up on the coach after having fallen asleep watching tv the previous night. The sunlight poured into the room and his eyes, which was what finally woke him. “Finally, Saturday,” he thought as he stretched out with a smile. But after a full ten seconds he realized it wasn’t Saturday. It was Tuesday. And it was 11 o’clock. He was supposed to have been at work at 8. After a split second of panic, he stopped caring. “Fuck it,” he said, and decided to call his boss to tell her he wouldn’t be in that day, as she had probably already figured out.

He went upstairs, stuffed tissues into his nostrils, and lay on his back on his bed with his head and shoulders hanging off the bed, below his body. He was ready for a great acting display of being too sick to go to work.

“Don’t pick up, don’t pick up, don’t pick up…”

“Chuck I’m already on the phone. Where are you?”

“Oh hi Rebecca, I…hold on…” He sneezed and the tissues shot out of his nostrils, so he held his nose shut with his left hand to simulate clogged sinuses. “Sorry I’m sick as a dog and can’t make it in today, sorry for the late notice.”

“Are you holding your nose?”

“Uhhhhng………no?” He heard a click and figured his boss had hung up. “Fuckin bitch” he muttered.

“Chuck. Are you an idiot? That’s not a rhetorical question I literally want you to answer me. ARE. YOU. AN. IDIOT?”

“Uh you’re pshshh breaking up Rebecca,” he covered and uncovered the mouthpiece as he spoke, “I’m…not…pshshh…gonna be….pshshh in…today…..sorry…pshshh” and he hung up.

“Fuck it.” Figuring he’d make the most of his day, he decided to go fishing near the casino then play some poker.

On the hour drive to the lake, his canoe strapped to the top of his car, there was a plastic grocery bag in his lane, and thinking nothing of it, he drove right over it while looking in his rear view to watch it swish up and into the car behind him. But the plastic bag had something big and hard in it and as he ran over it, his front left wheel slammed the object and jumped a foot off the ground and crashed back down. “What in the FUUUCCKK was that!!??” Fortunately, he recovered without crashing, although his car was now making a clicking noise.

As he arrived at the lake and stepped out of his car, he realized the canoe was no longer strapped to his car. It was just…gone. He wondered if he had forgotten to put it on the car in the first place, but quickly dismissed that possibility. It had definitely flown off when he ran over the object. “Jesus Christ what a day.” He decided not to even backtrack to look for it in case the police were waiting if it had hit another car and caused damage. He’d just fish from shore before poker. And this would have been possible if he hadn’t also forgotten his fishing rods. As he came to this realization, the man fishing from the boat ramp hooked into and landed a gigantic bass. Chuck got the urge to punch the man in the face, but instead got back into his shitty car and drove to the casino, fully expecting to lose because that’s just how his day and his life were going.

First hand, $1/$2 No Limit Texas Hold’em, pocket aces. His day suddenly was looking up, especially because the drunk guy across the table made a raise. Chuck re-raised. The drunk guy went all-in. Chuck called with the rest of his $200 casino budget. The drunk guy flipped over 4-2 offsuit and laughed, “Oh MAN I never thought you’d call!”

Flop: Ace Jack Ten, different suits. Perfect.
Turn: Five
River: Three

The drunk guy made a straight, and just like that, Chuck lost all his money to the lucky idiot, who was insincerely apologizing to him as he raked in the chips. When he finished raking, he got out of his seat, approached Chuck with a smile, his hand outstretched for a shake, and said, “Good hand man, sorry about that!”

“Fuck it,” said Chuck as he grabbed them man’s hand, pulled it toward him, and headbutted him right on the nose with full force. The man’s face was gushing blood all over the table, and Chuck had the man’s blood all over his face.

“You idiot I’m HIV positive everyone watch out!” screamed the drunk man while holding his gushing face.

Chuck was stunned. He had HIV blood all over his face, in his mouth, in his eyes. The security cop approached from behind with his gun drawn. Chuck turned around, grabbed the gun, punched the cop in the face, then fired ten rounds into his chest. At this point the whole poker room was in a riot and everyone was running out. Chuck put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

Click. The magazine was empty. Could this day get any worse?

He ran out of the poker room to his car, got in, and floored it out of the lot, still covered in HIV blood. Two cop cars were already on his tail. As he floored it toward the highway, the clicking sound in his car intensified. By the time he was on the highway, the clicking had matured into a full-on grinding sound and his car was shaking and lurching uncontrollably with thick, blue smoke pouring out from under the hood.

In an instant, his car exploded in a magnificent display of fire and metal and glass, and Chuck flew out the window into the air twenty feet above the highway. He was on fire. In that split second he got his bearings and stretched his arms out into the Superman pose. As he flew through the air, in a newfound, booming, superhero voice, he yelled, “FLAMERMAANNNNNNN!!!!” and the call echoed around the world.

Two days later…just kidding. This terrible story is over.

You can stop reading now because these words are just fillers to make it seem like the story isn’t ending as you read the last paragraph and line above. Please stop now you’re wasting your time. How boring is your life that you’re continuing to read right now? Stop it! Jesus Christ you make me sick will you just take your eyes off the page, click something else and read that?

Ok if you actually made it this far it means you love me and I love you back. Thanks for reading. But seriously, get a life.


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