Tonight was a lonely night.  I was driving in my nearly 190,000-mile old car. I had nothing to do tonight, nobody to see. I drove aimlessly around Aventura, looking for anything to grant me amusement, and grant me distraction from the dark dark voices in my head.

I pulled into the parking lot of a Krispe Kreme, and watched the neighbor kids as they gathered around the blinking neon lights. They were assaulting a homeless man. Another day in the life of South Florida. I began to doze off in my idling car as the scene unfolded.

Suddenly, a voice rung in my ears.

It was coming from inside the car.



No.






Inside my head.




It spoke clearly and deeply, with a slight German accent:
“Tonight, Brian. Tonight is your night.”

I knew immediately what he was telling me to do. I turned on my headlights, and pulled away from the Krispe Kreme. I defied every posted traffic law as I raced to my yellow box of a room and began to throw switches. I turned on my monitor, plugged in my headphones, and focused at the goal at hand.

Tonight, feelings of pride and triumph washed over me for the first time in months.

Miserlou became my bitch.

Freebird? Beat it on the first go.


My life is complete. I have no mountains to climb, no women to woo, no careers to play out and no brass ring to grasp. I have accomplished all there is, and all that ever will be.

I beat Guitar Hero 2 on Expert mode. Who wants to fucking touch me?