The deep throb began, the deep penetrating boom boom of piped-in compu-bop. Halverson's temples beat to the beat. He ground his teeth and awoke. He threw aside the stained sheet and sat up on the filthy mattress. Dingy light seeped in through the yellowed curtains. Jenkins moaned in his sleep across the room, a fresh puddle of greenish vomit skimming over on the floor next to his bed. Empty bottles littered the floor.
"Wake up!" Halverson threw his pillow at Jenkins; it bounced off his face and fell down into the puke puddle on the floor. "It's time to go!" Jenkins growled awake and sat up on his bed, rubbing crust out of his eyes. Jenkins was long past any kind of anxiety, resigned to accept whatever each day brought. He was working as a bouncer in the bar, ostensibly, mostly just getting drunk and trying to fuck the girls or bashing a few heads when he got the chance. He was unreliable, Halverson estimated, but didn't know what to do with him.