Two days ago I finally got settled into my brand new apartment in the lovely city of Metropolis, eyes bright, hopeful for the future.
Then shit happened.
More specifically, shit in the form of an alien invasion.
Now I sit here on the edge of a sidewalk, expensive glasses cracked, my arm broken. Watching police officers and medics scramble to heal their very broken city and it's populace. I can't believe I left Gotham for this crap.
I raise other arm, you know the one that's not broken, to get someones attention. No one bats an eye. I try to shout but I inhaled a crap ton of dust, so speaking would only result in excessive coughing.
Maybe if someone sees me coughing to death, they'll come and help me. Worth a shot right?
*10 minutes later*
Bastards.
I really am on my own. Great. And to think, all this caused by some pretty boy with a big ass S on his chest. I hope my place of work is still intact. It's bad enough I lose my apartment, but my job? Forget it. Hey, here comes someone, some schmuck with glasses. Maybe…
*5 minutes later*
I give up. I'm just done. They probably see me over here, give me one look and turn away in disgust saying "Ew, Gothamite".
Well, screw you too.
Ignore the dirty kid on the sidewalk, he's just there just to be there, it's not like he needs help or anything. Hell what if my injuries are worse than they seem, like on those medical shows? What if I'm slowly dying? Shit man, I'm only 21! I can't die now!
Wait…who is that? Some girl walking over here. She looks like she is in pretty bad shape, some bandages all over her head. Why is she sitting next to me?
"Hey" she says.
"Uh, hey" Wow I sound like a dork.
"What happened to you?" she asks.
"My arm is broken, you?"
"Well , one minute I was running for my life, same as everyone else, then bam! I wake up with some medic in my face telling me not to move"
"Damn"
"Yeah"
Awkward silence, then she says "Aliens. Ain't that somethin'?
"Yup," I say "It's something."
"And to think, my first week here and this happens"
She feels my pain. "Not from around here, hmm? Where you from?"
"Central City"
Poor girl. "Where do you live?"
"That apartment building right there" She points done the street.
"The one with big hole in it?"
"That's it"
"Damn"
"Yeah"
A fancy convertible pulls up, some douche in the driver's seat opens the passenger door, giving me the stink eye while he does it.
"Well, it was nice talking to you," she says, rushing into the fancy car, not even sparing me a second glance.
"Yeah, nice talking to you" I say as I watch the convertible drive away.
It's official. This day is by far the worst I have ever had.
No use staying around here. There should be a hospital around somewhere, I'll walk till I see one. Or till someone decides to give a damn about a lowly journalist, trying to make something of himself in this shitty world.
Whichever comes first.
A/N- I would like to thank Daniel Powter and his song "Bad Day" for providing inspiration for this story.