Ring, Ring, Ring, Ring, Ring, Ring, Ring, Ring. Bang. Crash!

Joey's hand hit the alarm clock with enough force to send it to the floor just before he rolled over and fell back asleep.

"JOEY! Get your ass outa bed!" Joey's girlfriend was anything but subtle.

Joey didn't move.

"JOEY! You better get movin'. You're LATE!" she said poking her head into the bedroom.

"Oh, Shit! Are you serious? What time is it?" Joey stumbled out of bed and grabbed a shirt from the hamper. "This will have to do," he muttered to himself. Then, yelling down the hall, "What time is it?"

"Seven thirty five. You better get movin'. If you're late again Fielder is gonna fire you."

"Damn, woman! Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" he yelled in panic.

"I did."

Joey threw on his shirt and grabbed his keys as he headed toward the door.

"Aren't you gonna take a shower?" she questioned, looking him up and down.

"I don't have time!" he said with less than a little patience in his voice. He grabbed her purse and dumped it out on the kitchen counter. "You got any money? I need lunch."

"Hey!" she said snatching up her purse. "There's some quarters in the glove compartment. Use that."

"Gee thanks," he muttered as he headed out the door with a slam.

---

Joey screeched out of the driveway and headed toward Sherman Street. The Impala convertible he drove had seen better days. It wasn't even new when his father had given it to him as a graduation gift--never mind the fact that Joey hadn't actually graduated. Now, nine years later it looked two-tone. White and rust.

As he slid around the corner onto 5th Avenue, a small orange light on the dash board came on to let him know that he was low on fuel. "Damn!" he yelled, "I don't have time for this!" He punched it and flew past the Texaco station. As he rounded the corner onto Plumas his engine almost cut out. "Damn, I guess it really is out of gas," he groaned as he slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

He made a quick look around. "Excellent!" he thought, "there's an empty pump at the BP station across the street." He whipped the car across two lanes of traffic to the sounds of horns blaring. He couldn't hear them, of course--Pantera was pounding out of his car stereo speakers.

After rummaging through the glove compartment he ran to the booth. "Gimme three dollars on pump five."

"I'm sorry sir. But pump five is out of order" the attendant replied.

"What?! Then, give me three dollars on six."

"Six is in use."

"I don't have time for this. Just give me three dollars on six!" Joey's eyes were mere slits now.

"I'm sorry sir. You'll have to wait your turn."

"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" he yelled throwing the hand full of quarters at the attendant. He ran to his car and grabbed thehandle out of the hands of the elderly woman at the opposite side pump. After pumping $3 worth he jumped in. Horn blaring, he nearly ran over two girls waiting for the bus as he sped onto the street. Two blocks later he blew through a stop sign and merged onto I-92 North.

---

"SEVEN FIFTY" he yelled slamming his hands against the steering wheel. Joey was really starting to panic now. He was guiding his Impala through tight traffic as if he was driving an Italian sports car.

As he rounded the bend near Mt. Cellar he slammed on the breaks. Traffic was at a dead stop. "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" he yelled at the three lanes of cars that were moving at a snail's pace. And, it was true. Joey didn't have time for this. His job was on the line. Mr. Fielder had told him that if he were late one more time, his job would be history. Two months ago his girlfriend had lost her job and money was tight. He could not afford to lose his job. He HAD to be at the job site by eight. "I really should have gone to the bathroom before I left the house," he thought squirming in his seat. Joey switched the radio station and Metallica began screaming out some lyrics as his hands tapped out the beat on the steering wheel.

The only lane of traffic that seemed to be moving was the car pool lane. "That's not FAIR" he muttered as another car whizzed by him in the car pool lane. "Why should I be late just because I don't have two losers in my car with me?" Joey slammed his fist on the steering wheel as another car whizzed past him.

"What is this CRAP?!" he yelled at the car. "There are only two people in that car!" Joey's anger mounted with each second that passed and each car that passed. "Carpool. Three People! Can't you people read the signs?!" he yelled after them.

He was nearly out of his mind with rage when he saw it in his rear view mirror--a light blue SUV. The SUV was quickly approaching and Joey could see that the driver was alone! Joey started waving his arm at the driver as he leaned on the horn. As the SUV passed, Joey mashed his fists into the horn. "Goddammit!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, "THAT'S IT!!!"

Joey grabbed his steering wheel, cranked it into the direction of the carpool lane, and punched the gas. Several cars in the carpool lane behind him skidded to a stop creating a small pile-up of twisted metal. Joey never even saw them. He was totally focused on Mr. SUV up there "cheating" his way to work. Joey would teach that loser a lesson about driving alone in the carpool lane!

Joey quickly reached 65 MPH. He smiled as he whizzed past other drivers. The road rose sharply as it climbed Mt. Cellar which allowed him to catch up to Mr. SUV. Joey was riding right on his rear bumper now. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he pushed the accelerator to the floor and tapped the SUV on its rear bumper.

The SUV lurched forward. Time seemed to stand still then move slowly forward. Joey slowed down as he saw the SUV start to fish-tail. The oscillations were small at first, perhaps only a few inches. Left. Right. Left. Right. Joey started to laugh. "That'll teach him" he thought.

Suddenly the SUV took a wild turn for the worse. The left front tire exploded off of the rim and the SUV made a sharp turn to the left straight into the guard rail.

Joey's eyes were as big as saucers as he watched the SUV spin around and hit the rail full on-side. The force of the hit carried the top heavy SUV over the steel rail and it plunged nearly sixty feet to the river below.

---

Joey was in a daze as he merged over to the slow lane. He took the next off-ramp and turned his car into a small side street. The announcer on the radio said something about it being eight-o-five. Joey slumped in his seat as he stopped his car.

It was a full fifteen minutes before Joey stopped shaking long enough to start the car again. His car was on auto-pilot, heading for home. Sticking to surface streets he made it home in twenty minutes. He parked on the street and stumbled into the house.

"What are you doing here?"

Joey's voice was hollow and distant, "I was late. Fired." He grabbed a beer from the fridge to calm his nerves, slumped down on the couch, and turned on the TV.

---

The television showed an image from a helicopter of a light blue SUV, twisted and burned as the newscaster reported, "This is the scene just a few moments ago near Mt. Cellar on I-92. An SUV crashed over the guard rail..."

"Hey! Come in here!" Joey called.

"What?"

"I saw this guy."

"The newscaster?" she questioned.

"No, Mr. SUV."

"Really?" she said with concern in her voice.

"Yeah. He was driving alone in the carpool lane."

"That's stupid" she said. "You can get a $580 fine if you get caught without three people in the car."

"Shhhh!"

The television showed the newscaster again. "The victim was Mr. Mark Fisher of Small Basin and his twin two-month-old daughters riding in the back seat. We will bring you more details about these fatalities as they become available. Any information you might have concerning the driver of an older white convertible sedan should be left on the Watch Dog crime line at 555-7463."

Joey punched a button on the remote and the TV went dead.

"I thought you said he was driving alone?"

"I gotta go," Joey replied in a panic as he jumped up and grabbed his keys.

"Where are you going?"

"N-Nowhere. I... I just gotta go," he mumbled as he turned to leave.

Joey froze as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He could see, through the window near the front door, several shadows moving up.

Bang, bang, bang came the knock on the door. "OPEN UP!"