I haven’t slept in days.
Now, I can tell what you’re thinking by the look on your face, and I can’t say I blame you. I’ve heard people say the same thing a million times before, usually when they’ve been clocking a lot of overtime, or maybe when they’ve been really busy running around with their kids or whatever. But I got laid off from my job about three weeks ago—downsizing, they said, though I have reason to believe they were farting through their teeth—and I ain’t never had no kids. So believe me, when I tell you that I haven’t slept in days…it’s no exaggeration. I haven’t slept at all. Not a goddamn wink.
So I guess that brings us to the reason why I’m here. And I s’pose I’ll start with what happened last July, when I was driving a load of farm supplies down Route 302, just outside of Millinocket, Maine.
It began just like any other summer day. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and the air was bursting with that beautiful summery smell—you know the one I mean, don’t you? It’s more than just the flowers and the trees. It’s that smell that you think of in the gray of winter, when it seems like all the colors have been sucked out of the world forever. Then someone mentions summer, and that’s what you think of above all else—that smell. That sweet green smell. Yeah, I can tell by your smile that you know what I mean.
Anyway, getting back to the story, by the time I reached 302, I had already fallen into my usual routine and I…Well, it’s sort of stupid, but after all that’s happened, I don’t see the harm in telling you. I feel silly saying it out loud, but I’ve always thought I’ve had a pretty decent singing voice, which is why I always took them back roads instead of the highway, so I could really belt out a few tunes. Sometimes, I even pretended I was up on a stage, singing in front of a thousand screaming fans. I would imagine a bunch of beautiful cowgirls in the front row, all of them wearing tight blue jeans and belly shirts, and how they’d swoon when I smiled and winked at them.