NaNoWriMo 2

Thomas Nelson stared at the phone in his hand. He was a professional man, a moderate, gainfully employed since the age of 14, respected in his field, steady in a pinch, the guy you want on your side when everything turns to shit. And then he laughed. And then he got back out of his car and pissed right there in the parking lot. And then he took another pull. And then Trent Reznor said, “you make me perfect” in a falsetto that made him nearly spit out the green liquor. And then he got back into his running car; put it in drive; flipped open his phone; read a text message from his former boss – tough day, tommy... stay +, you’ll always land on your feet; hit the gas in anger; texted back - GO FUC... and entered the highway in front of an on-coming car filled with singing teen aged girls. And then he went to sleep.