[NewClassic]

Took a break on this one, since I lost my inspiration for it. I'll find it eventually, I'm sure. Until then, writing a little to keep up the practice.


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Subliminal



Greg jerked the covers over his shoulder, trying to ignore the repetitive jingle stuck in his head. “Buy Toyota now!” It kept circling in his mind as he forced his eyes closed and tried to think about another, more soothing noise to fall back asleep to.


“Good morning, Los Angeles! It's 6:15 AM and a wonderful morning for some Community House coffee! It's a balmy 64 degrees out this morning, expected to reach about 72 mid-day outside, and perfect weather to go shopping.” Greg frowned, and jerked the cover higher over his head, to hopefully down out the noise of his radio/alarm clock. “It's just about 6:16, which means it's time for your four minutes of uninterrupted advertisement.” A loud, vaguely European voice appeared and began to preach the virtues of updating one's wardrobe. Greg cussed in response to the commercial, and rolled back over, hearing the thumping bass of 'Toyota Wonderland' circling in his head.


Greg eventually abandoned the notion that he'll ever get back to sleep, and threw the covers off of his bed. “-and the ladies will just flock to your door after you pull your brand new 2008 BMW off of our lot. So come down to Sandra and George's Auto Lot tod-” Greg thumped the radio into the off position and rose unsteadily to his feet. The morning sun was slowly turning the sky light blue, and light was weakly threading through the blinds on the window. Greg hummed to himself as he walked to the kitchen. “Come to Toyota Wonderland today / we'll let you drive off, without having to pay / for at least 365 days!” He paused, and clamped his mouth shut for fear of singing the song again against his will.


After his morning routine, Greg found his way to his old, beat-up Camry and set off on the road to work. Nike swooshes and AT&T Mobile logos flashed across his side windows, frowning to himself as the words to Toyota Wonderland swarm around his head. Once he finally arrives at work, he's greeted with the chattering voices of his co-workers, discussing Gillette razors in the cubicles. He sits down in his New York Times provided leather chair, and grabs an All-State Insurance pen from his drawer before sitting down to check his e-mail.


The inbox is filled with spam advertisements, Viagra knock-offs and “genuine” Rolex e-mails are shifted immediately to the junk folder, along with at least twenty offers to get an extra three inches onto some things, and twenty-five pounds off of others with Jenny Craig's wonderful program, from herbal enhancements to female growth hormones. All of these sponsored graciously by Yahoo! Mail, as provided by the company's blazing fast Qwest High-Speed Professional Business internet. Greg closes his Microsoft-powered Outlook e-mail client, and turns to his work.


After work, Greg returned to an empty house, and a head full of things he really needs to buy. He turns back to his car, and notices his fuel gauge disparagingly low. The road leads him to the nearby Shell station, which doubles as a Penzoil Auto and Lube Shop. Suddenly, the 'S' in Shell sparks, falling from the sign, and crushing Greg's car.


Greg was upright in bed, sweating profusely. He looked around his bedroom, and noticed he awakened a minute before his alarm clock. He shut it down and trudged to the kitchen. A knock on his door jarred him from his cooking, and he opened the door to see his neighbor.


“Good morning, Greg. I left the rake you loaned me last fall in your garage, just wanted to let you know.”


“Okay, thanks. By the way, I had the most awful nightmare last night.”


The neighbor frowned, “Well, what was it?”


After Greg recounted it, the neighbor pursed his lips, “Tell you what, I'm holding a barbecue tonight, and I think it'll do you well to come and unwind.”


“Okay,” Greg said, glad that he has such good neighbors.


The neighbor waved goodbye, and walked away humming the Toyota Wonderland tune.