What a horrible noise an alarm clock can be. He used to program the radio to wake him, but more often than not it would only incorporate into his dreams. Although a beautiful dream soundtracked with Alejandra’s soothing vocals can be heaven, staying in one is no way to hold down a job. It was the flat howl of the buzz that was necessary to wake him. Not the most pleasant of ways to start off the day. After the third activation of the snooze bar, Joel stirred and rolled himself out of bed onto his feet. He sifted through the pile of clothes on the floor hoping his work uniform wasn’t too unwearable. Just a few wrinkles and minor coffee stain, good enough. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?” he thought with a chuckle as tossed them on the bed and headed to the shower.

The hot water was off again. Joel’s landlord Benny had a bad habit of not paying the gas bill. Benny often neglected his duties as a property owner and living in building 246 wasn’t always the most agreeable experience. Between the roaches, the bad plumbing, thin walls, and questionable tenants, there wasn’t a day that went by that Joel didn’t wish he had the cash to move somewhere else. Now that the frigid water removed any last bit of sleep from him, he stepped from the shower to the mirror. He didn’t have a bad face. Not much to it really. He was very ordinary. Short, brown hair, yet still in need of a cut. Not the strongest of chins, but nothing that cried sissy either. Brown tired eyes, not tired from lack of sleep, but tired from the ins and outs of such a mundane life. After staring at himself for a minute or so he went about drying, shaving, brushing his teeth and dressing.

He left apt. 7, locking the door behind him. Still 2 minutes before bus 22 would be at the bus stop. He rushed down to the corner, ignoring Ms. Delaney’s complaints about the noises from his apartment the previous night. Nagging at her neighbors was all the old bag seemed to do, he’d heard it all before and there was just no pleasing her. As he got to the corner,waiting to cross the street to the bus stop on the other side, there it went, bus 22. City busses are never early. In fact they are almost always late. “Bollocks” he though as he ran to catch another bus three blocks over. It’s too bad someone stole his schwinn a month back, it was really the only form of exercise Joel ever got.

His normal shift at the KwikMart was from 7a.m. to 3p.m. Joel walked up at precisely 7:20 a.m. Habib, was not happy and a written performance statement was issued before he left to check on one of his other stores. Life at the KwikMart is as to be expected. He spent his hours parked behind the counter smoking cigarettes to pass the time. There were a few regulars that he didn’t mind so much. Most of them however were utter idiots that he wished pox upon regularly. There was one good thing about the job. Shelley,the FritoLay girl. And what a girl next door she was. Shelley was probably the only girl who ever gave Joel the time of day, it’s to bad her wedding is to be in May. Joel waited eagerly for 10:00, Shelley’s regular delivery time. Joel let out a disappointed sigh as Marge, a matronly black woman rolled her frito chips in. She was nice, but she wasn’t Shelley. He rolled his eyes as Laverne, the lottery lady came in smoking her lipstick stained Capri cigarette. The place was starting to pick up, Officer Janson was pulling up, probably expecting his free cup of coffee. Just at the edge of the lot, making his way in was Benson, the wino, no doubt he had just panhandled enough to buy another bottle of Thunderbird.

It was moments like these Joel really hated his life. He took a second to go over the events of his day in his mind as he handed Laverne another scratch off. Alarm clock, cold water, nagging neighbor, missed bus, angry boss, no pretty girl. And then he started thinking how all his days were about the same. It was just one disappointment after the next. He was going nowhere. He worked at KwikMart for pete’s sake. He lived in a rathole. He really hated his life. It wasn’t until Janson barked at him about the burnt coffee that he wasn’t even going to pay for, or maybe it was Laverne demanding another scratch off, could have been Benson’s begging Marge (who isn’t Shelley) for a dollar, maybe the kid in the far isle stealing another can of butane, whatever it was, for the first time he realized he hated it. He wanted to disappear from existence more than ever before. All the force of his will wished it.

But he didn’t exactly disappear. He shrank. He got smaller, and smaller, until at about four inches tall, he stopped. . “Great” thought Joel, “I can’t even disappear properly” He crawled out of the darkness of his shoe and wished harder. Nothing happened. He was just a tiny naked man. A tiny naked man that wanted be away from the KwikMart. And then he was. There was a small four inch poof of cigarette smoke, and his little naked body was home in his unmade bed. The customers didn’t even notice. Not until Laverne had finally scratched a winner and there was no one to redeem it for her. Looking over the counter, all she saw was a pile of KwikMart uniform.