It's mid-afternoon, I'm trying to hang on and get through the last of the work carp that absolutely needs to be finished this week and I need a nap or at least some excitement to jar me from this somnambulating haze. A nap sounds so good....
Sometimes a nap crackles awake with a jolt. Say you're nodding off in your car, a malty beverage fortified with ingredients that aren't vitamins and minerals in the console between the seats and maybe it's not your car. And let's say your nap, as do the rest of your workaday activities, lives beneath the overarching architecture of a warrant. And that your workaday world doesn't involve the sort of work the Renaissance coiners of "workaday" might have imagined. Assault and robbery are what pay your way, at least as far as the Man is concerned, although we've already seen the effects of relative perspectives. Fuck all that smart-ass shit, you need to slow it down for an hour or so, so you duck onto an alley and take a well-deserved break. But that nettlesome warrant for your arrest has attached to it "armed and dangerous" and the pistol in your waistband probably informs that assessment, at least a little. And you forget that your ride isn't really your ride, because, well, you're driving it. Nap-dreams are invaded by blue men that aren't the Smurfs you've seen dancing with the drank in your spun head these last few nights. No, these smurfs are there because they were tipped off by a meter maid who happened to notice the ride you bedded down in was hot-listed. End of nap.
You should never steal a red car either.
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