The alarm goes off. Carl wakes up. Carl takes a shower. Carl gets dressed. Carl goes to work. Carl goes home. Carl eats dinner. Carl watches TV. Carl goes to bed. This is the life of Carl.
Carl Amet is the average American male. He has a wife and two kids, a boy and a girl. He has an average house, and an average car. He goes to a job he hates, to work for a power hungry man he can't stand. When he wakes up, there's no time to take solace. When he goes to sleep, there's no time for reflection. Carl lives the American dream, with an all-American life. And he couldn't be any more miserable.
Carl's eyelids lifted. His pupils contracted from the sunlight pouring into the bedroom. He took in a deep calming breath of fresh air and rolled over onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, comfort and calm flushed through his body. Something was wrong. Carl's head shot right. The alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed kept blinking 12:00am. Carl threw the covers off himself and leaped out of bed. He went to the dresser and grabbed his watch. The arms on the face were lifeless. He held it to his ear, but the tiny ticking noise ceased. He ran to the desk and flipped the computer monitor on. A blank blue screen greeted him. He moved the mouse and pounded buttons, but the blue screen remained frozen. "You've got to be kidding me."
Bridgette stirred awake. "What's wrong," she groggily asked.
"The alarm never went off. I'm late for work," Carl panicked as he grabbed a handful of clothes and tossed them into the bathroom. Bridgette looked at the blinking clock, "the power must have gone out."
"Thanks detective," Carl shot back as he slammed the bathroom door behind him.
Carl had a meeting later in the day that he couldn't miss. Perhaps if he went into work at lunch and claimed a half day, he'd be in the clear. Hopping into the shower, he grabbed the soap and lathered it up in his hands. With plenty of suds, he went to rub the soap across his chest but dropped it. The bar slid around the tub. Carl lifted his leg up as he turned to grab it, but the soap slid under his foot. Putting his weight down, Carl slipped. He reached out and grabbed at anything he could. He caught the faucet on his way down, and turned it all the way up. Scalding hot water came raining down, steam filling the bathroom. Letting out a growl with a grimace, he held a hand above his head, trying to shield his face from the boiling water as he turned it down. Succeeding in cooling the water, soap dripped down off his fingers shielding his face and hit him in the eye.
He went to his back, shrieking at his burning, stinging eyes. He kicked his feet while rubbing away at his face. His foot hit the faucet and the handle turned all the way down to cold. Freezing water came down. Carl's shrieks turned to full on screaming and cursing. He reached out and slammed the faucet closed, turning the water off.
Fully dressed, Carl went into the den and pulled his cell phone off the charger. Dead. "How," he asked himself. He pulled at the charger cable that disappeared behind the end table. Lifting the cord up with ease, it was never plugged in.
Grabbing his car keys, he went for the car. "The clock in there will work." Stepping outside and off the porch, immediately he felt the squish beneath his feet, almost instantaneously followed by a rank smell. "No. No. Who's dog's is this," he yelled with a foot raised. "For the love of......Why?"
Pouting, he open the car door and sat down, keeping his feet outside. He turned the ignition and the car started right up. "Finally....something worked." Carl found a silver lining to hook onto and looked at the clock. It was only 7:30am. Work starts at 8am. With only a twenty minute drive ahead of him, he'd be at work in plenty of time. "Alright," he shook his head with a smile, almost chuckling at the morning he'd been having.
After going to the house and changing his shoes, he went back to the car whistling a tune. "What a lovely day," he thought. A warm Californian summer's day. Not the slightest of breezes. The air was somewhat humid but very comfortable. The birds were chirping. A lot of birds. An unusual amount of birds. Looking up, the tree in his front yard was filled with birds. The phone lines leading to the house were lined with birds. "Hmmm," Carl suspiciously got into the car and shut the door as hundreds of eyes stared down from above. The car left on from before was cooled from the A/C running, but it had an odd smell coming through the vents.
Rolling the window down to let the interior air out, swarms of crows cawed while wrestling around on the roof. With an eyebrow raised, he put the car in reverse and began to back out of the drive. As Carl
moved down the drive, smoke started lifting from beneath the hood. A trail of fur and red drops followed him from his parking spot. "What the?" He turned the car off and popped the hood. Climbing out, the chirping and cawing birds from above grew restless. A wretched foul odor worsened as he approached the hood. Carl chocked on the stink, covering his mouth and nose with his arm. He hit the latch on the hood and popped it open, revealing the neighbors dead cat, caught sleeping on the manifold. "Oh my- he coughed, again and again. "This isn't happening." With little time to spare, he grabbed the cat, chucked it into the neighbors yard, slammed the hood down, and bolted. He sped out the drive, peeled out the tires, and took off down the road.
