My name is Johnny Carsweeper.  Contrary to what my last name may or may not indicate, I don’t sweep cars.  Today on my way to work I passed a Frito Lay truck.  It was presumably full of chips.  Food companies, in my opinion, were OK.  The only thing wrong with food companies is that they do not release live animals for the hunting.  They make edible pieces of meat and vegetable matter and “snacks” and package them for easy consumption.  Before that, though, they coat the prepared food in chemicals so that it will stay fresh.  Except packaged meat.  That is just wrapped and left out to be sold for a while, then it’s probably thrown away.  I’ve never seen meat on clearance.  So come to think of it, the food industry is actually taking away from our primal instincts by making food readily available to those who leave the jungle for cubicles.  Oh well, some people say New York is a jungle.
         I looked for an apartment today.  I thought of getting one in the Crestfallen Village Apartment Complex.  Perhaps one right across from my office.  That way I could watch my home from work, and watch my office from home.  Hell, I could do work from home if I had a computer to play Quake on.
         The internet is a valuable tool for the lazy.  You can get anything: pokémon tips and secrets, lingerie, printer cartridges, guns, and even cars and housing.  I went to http://www.findapt.com.  They helped me to find that one empty apartment across from my office.  I guessed I didn’t need my car anymore, unless I planned on having a social life.  I decided to put that to the test.
         I pressed the “page secretary” button on my telephone that I had labeled “paperclips and whatnot.”
         “Stella?”
         “Yeah, what is it?”
         “Will you come in here for a couple minutes?  I need you to take some notes.”
         “Record your captain’s log yourself.”
         “Excuse me?  Get the hell in here now.”
         “Fine.”
         Stella walked into my office without a pen or a notebook.
         “Look at you,” I said, “unprepared.  What are you going to write on?”
         Stella gave me a cold look.
         “You don’t have to hate me.  I’ve decided not to lie about my job anymore.  I have a shit job here in this office.  What do you think?”
         “Did you just call me in here to antagonize me?”
         “No,” I said, “sorry.  Please sit down.”  I put on my serious face.  I turned around in my chair and pointed to my new apartment.  “See that?”
         “It’s a building.”
         “Yes, but I’m pointing at a single apartment in it.  My apartment.  I just bought one.”
         “Good for you.  I guess you can sell your car now.”
         “Maybe.  That’s where you come in.”  I turned around and looked Stella in the eye.  I was getting good at this jerk-in-an-office thing.  “If I were to ask you out to dinner or something, would you want to go or would you rather I just shut the hell up?”
 Stella sighed.  She uncrossed her legs and then crossed them the other way.  I remembered how she did that when she got impatient or uncomfortable.  I was guessing uncomfortable here.
         “Johnny, look-“
         “Yes or no.  Just don’t trash my office.”
         She grinned for a second.  “You know it won’t work.  I mean, you’re funny and smart and now you’ve got a place to live, and-“
         “Come on, we don’t even have to take along Phil Pennington.”
         “No, Johnny, it just won’t work.”
         Damn, I thought.  I almost had her.  “OK, you can go back to your desk.”
         She got up and left.
         The rest of my day was boring, especially without binoculars.  So I ordered some from <http://www.voyeuraccessories.com.>
         That night I moved into my apartment.  It was very strange.
         My apartment number was 354C.  It was between 352C and 356C.  I was on the even side of the hall.
         It was completely empty when I entered.  Totally barren.  Here’s a little map of it.
 
         I didn’t even have a bed.  Everything worked, it was just that I had the bare necessities.  For an apartment, that is.  The bed problem was soon solved by some blankets and a pillow I had in my car.  I moved all of my valuables from my car to my room.  Blankets, suitcase, clothes, gun, etc.  There was nowhere to put my gun except in an overhead kitchen cabinet.  Deadly kitchenware!
         Before I fell asleep that night, I wondered how I would go about getting a bed and a refrigerator in there.
         I slept much better than I would have had I been in my car.  I felt great the next day.
         On my way to work that day I passed no vehicles.  My entire journey was across a road, Bee’s Knees Avenue.
         I spent most of the day ordering furniture from <http://www.fürni.com>.  Nothing was fancy.  White refrigerator, bed with white sheets, plastic folding chairs, small wooden tables, coffee maker, microwave, some cheap dinnerware, and an assortment of other first apartment essentials.  I even made sure it would all arrive on the same day, so that I could leave work and accept it all.  Mel would understand.  He knew I played Quake all day, so what was a little furnishing for a brand new home?
         Things were looking nice for a change.  I was making more money, I had a home, and I could afford it.  I’d almost forgotten about Phil Pennington.  I can always count on him to ruin things for me.
         I had a meeting at 4:00.  I wasn’t sure if I would be reprimanded for not having done anything, but I was sure I could come up with something.  I thought that maybe Stella would be better at pretending I did work, so I called her in.
         She came in with a pen and notebook this time.
         “You know I’ve got a meeting at four, right?”
         “Yeah, I’m supposed to be the one who reminds you about these things.”
         “Great.  Can you give me a hand?”
         “What’s up?”
         “What the hell’s the meeting about?”
         “Well, Mel Appeloog called it, so it can’t be important.  I bet he’s just going to tell you guys what you should be doing.  By the way, he wants his Quake CD back.  Is that really all you do?”
         “Play Quake?  Most of the time.  You can come in and play it if you want.”
         “What’s it about?”
         “I dunno, but the object is to kill everything else.”
         “Oh.”  Women don’t understand violent video games.  Come to think of it, they don’t understand video games at all.  The only video they seem to enjoy is soap operas.  As a man, I do not understand soap operas.
         The meeting went something like this:
                    1.Everyone arrives except for Mel Appeloog: me, Phil Pennington, Mark Andras, Anthony Varcic, Sarah McGreen, and John Quack.
                    2.Mel showed up fifteen minutes late.  He announced that the meeting had begun.
                    3.We all introduced ourselves, gave names, told a few things about ourselves, etcetera etcetera.  I said that my hobby is ant farms.
                    4.Then Mel told us what our jobs are.  That was a first for me.  Our jobs, as the Development Team, were to improve things.  What nonsense.
                    5.Then everyone was released.  I stayed a couple minutes so that I could return Mel’s Quake CD to him.
         I took my lunch break after that.  I went to the important-person-cafeteria, because I was now allowed access to important-person-food.  Phil Pennington was there, and he had Grant Bewilder with him.  They were talking and smiling.  Nimrods always get along just great.
         I didn’t care, though, I was living in an apartment for Christ’s sake.  I walked through the line and got a few things.  Meat loaf, salad, coffee, and finally some sort of dessert.  They were serving cheesecake.  That stuff is amazing.  Unfortunately, before I could get my well-deserved portion of tasty goodness, it was snatched up by none other than the hand of Phil Pennington, who probably doesn’t like cheesecake but just grabbed it to spite me.
         That was OK, though, an absence of cheesecake in my life wasn’t enough to ruin it.  I don’t eat cheesecake everyday, you know.
 I decided to go without dessert, since it is an optional meal, like breakfast (I always feel sick when I wake up, ever since I graduated).
         My next objective was to find a seat.  I saw Mark Andras sitting by himself, and I thought that he might be interesting to talk to.
         “Is anyone sitting here?” I asked.
         “Nope.”
         “I guess you wouldn’t mind if I did?”
         “No, go right ahead.  Have we met?”
         “Yeah, we had a meeting about twenty minutes ago.”
         “Oh!  Now I remember.  You’re the guy with the ant farm.”
         I smirked.  “Yeah.  Big ol’ ant farm.  You know, that was an analogy.”
         “To what?”
         That was when both Phil Pennington and Captain Awesome sat down at the same table, next to us.  What the hell were they doing?!  I ignored them for a moment.
         “See, I have a giant window in my office.  I can watch everyone down below and in the building across, or somewhere else.  It’s like watching an ant farm.  Everyone runs and does their own thing, each fulfilling their own purposes.  Each man to his own pointless task.”
         “Interesting….” Mark said.  That’s what all stupid people say after they hear something they don’t understand.
         “So, Johnny,” interrupted Phil, even though I wasn’t talking, “how are things in your new office?”
         What the hell?  Fucking bastard!  Why was he pretending to be my friend?  I was completely baffled.  I paused while bringing food toward my mouth, to show that I had truly been interrupted.  I then slowly turned my head to Phil Pennington.
         “It’s fine.  Why do you ask?”
         “Oh, just wondering.”  He then turned contentedly to his meal of clam chowder and cheesecake.  What a stupid idiot.
         “He’s got an ant farm in it,” said Mark.  Another stupid idiot.  I didn’t let it get to me, though.  I just went on with my meat loaf and salad and coffee.  Damn, it was good for a change.  It had a more wholesome taste to it than McComrade cheeseburgers.
         “So, are you making any progress on Quake?” asked Grant Bewilder (Captain Awesome.)
         I was deeply offended that someone I clearly hated would pretend that we’re “cool.”  It was like back in high school when the counselors tried to be your friend.  I never allowed them into my little sphere of Carsweeper.
         “I’m doing just fine,” I replied to Captain Awesome.  What a bunch of weirdoes.
         I got up, I was not going to just deal with this.  I was going to leave.  I could eat later.
         “I’ve got to go,” I said, “I just remembered an important paper I need to finish up by five.”  Oops, I lied.  I’m still a lying bastard.  I left the important-person cafeteria, it was no longer a haven or a welcoming environment for me.
         This was ridiculous.  Mark Andras was OK, he just didn’t know how to use his brain correctly.  Some people are clumsy like that.  Phil Pennington and Captain Awesome, however, were causing my brain to work in clumsy ways.  It just made no sense.  Phil and I had argued before, it was the only times we had communicated at all.  I kicked Grant Bewilder out of my goddamn office for Christ’s sake.  Did he really care how good I was at Quake?
 Something weird was going on.  I had to talk to someone about it.  I couldn’t just storm into my office and stew about it.  The walls were soundproof, and Stella didn’t seem to give three shits what I did in there anyway.  Stella.  Maybe I could talk to her.  I was already at her desk.  I’m very good at thinking while I walk around.  I was probably whistling too.
         “Stella, could you come in my office with me?”
         She sighed.  “What now?  Want me to reboot your computer?”
         “Come on, Stella, work with me.  This doesn’t have to be this way.  Why do you hate me?”
         “I don’t hate you, it’s just that….”
         “Just come in here with me, OK?  I need you to.”
         She didn’t put up a fight, but she didn’t bring a notepad with her.  Guess how much I cared.
         “You wouldn’t believe what just happened to me.”
         “I bet I would, but you have to tell me first.”
         “OK, I was in the cafeteria, everything was just fine there.  I sat down next to Mark Andras and we started talking.  Not a very well established exchange of thoughts with this guy, but at least it’s nothing really weird.  Then!  Then, Phil Pennington and Captain Awesome-“
         “Captain Awesome?”
         “Grant Bewilder.”
         “Why did you call him that?”
         “That’s not important right now.  See, they both sat down, NEXT TO ME, and then they started talking!”
         “What’s so weird about that?”
         “They were talking to me, like I was a friend or something.  You know I hate Phil Pennington.  You know I kicked Captain Awesome out of my office the other day.”
         “So?  Maybe they’re just trying to be friends for once and put aside all the hate.”
         “No, they wouldn’t do that.  They’re Phil Pennington and Captain Awesome.  Jerkoff and Pissant!”
 Stella grinned again.
         “OK, but what am I supposed to do?”
         “I dunno, I just need to talk to someone.”
         “And you came to me.”
         “None other.  Come on, you know there’s still something here.”
         “Johnny, I’m tired of talking about this.  You have to give it up.  It already happened.  It’s over, and it won’t happen again.”
 I leaned back in my chair.
         “Why not?  Things are looking up for me.  For once in my life, I’m looking to make things pleasant.”  Stella made me forget about Jerkoff and Pissant, so she’d done her job.
         She looked away.
         I guess things weren’t quite going my way.
         “Come on, just dinner and a movie or something.  Bring Niqi along if you want.  Bring fucking Phil Pennington along, I don’t care.”
         Stella looked straight at me.  I didn’t look away.  “You just don’t give up, you little son of a bitch.”
         “Is there a problem?  I heard ‘The Great Hornsby’ is good.”
         “OK, fine.  Niqi won’t be coming, though.  I guess this is important to you.  Just don’t make me change my mind.”
         “You still living in the same place?”
         “Yes.”
         “I’ll pick you up at seven.”