He set the silver teapot, red pan, and orange pot down on the stove and checked his watch.
First, he got dressed, second he ate breakfast, third he took a shower.
‘A strong, healthy human has to eat breakfast,’ he thought to himself.
“Well, best get off to work.”
Over the piles of junk, he traveled to his motorcycle in his garage.
When he kicked a tire accidentally, whatever was living in it ran away.
He shuddered at the thought of something in his garage, however, he kept moving.
He got a call on his phone, saying “Joe, where are you?”.
“Hunter Chrisman, the IT guy, is sick, and I need you to get over here and cover his presentation,” the voice said.
“Alright sir, I’ll be over there in a sec,” Joe replied.
‘Something must be really upsetting him, he sounded pretty anxious,’ Joe thought.
He started his motorcycle, which had 12,000 miles on it, up.
Before he left, he flipped over his calendar on the wall, after all it was March 1, 2016.
Because he lived on the outskirts of a city, he quickly passed the sign that said “Detroit, Michigan”.
He checked his mail once he got to the office, and found one note that started with “ Dear Joseph, you are-”, but threw the letter in the trash right away.
Indeed, he was liable to let out a piercing scream if he got one more piece of junk mail.