Calvin's alarm clock screamed to life, and continued screaming at him until he woke up. Spike Speeder's world, the dark Sprawl that seemed to stretch as far as one could see, the wicked red motorcycle that the hacker trusted with his life, and the hard and oppressive streets where all the action was concentrated, all faded away as Calvin's eyes opened to the real world. Hobbes was still asleep, although how the same psychotic jungle cat who could hear Calvin a block away couldn't hear the alarm clock was beyond even Calvin's ability to comprehend.

"Lazy tigers," he mumbled as he rolled out of bed, searching the wasteland that he'd let his room degenerate into for some clothes. All he could find by way of pants was a wrinkled pair of black jeans, which had become something of a signature item for him. Despite all the mocking references to goths he received in the lunch room, Calvin was always the first to point out that he would never be a goth until goths sacked Rome again. The joke was lost to everyone who heard it. Calvin's pace of getting dressed slowed down drastically as he began to day dream about being a Vandal raider, pillaging and looting the once great city of Imperial Rome.

A pillow hurled by an annoyed and cranky tiger smacked into Calvin's face, and brought him out of his fantasy world. He shook his head and picked up his pace as his mother yelled at him. He grabbed an old orange t-shirt with an intricate tribal design imprinted in solid black on the front. Naturally, he thought it was simply the coolest shirt in the known universe and all points beyond that, and beamed with adolescent pride as he donned what he called his tiger stripes. He had found the shirt in a local mall, after a long hard search through the bargain bin of a department store. He had been looking to replace his collection of red striped shirts, feeling that made him look too young, and the tiger stripes captured his fancy in an instant. His parents, ever hungry for a chance to shut Calvin up cheaply, bought him the shirt he just had to have. Although no one had ever demonstrated having misgivings about his favorite shirt, wearing the orange cloth always made Calvin feel like he was on the edge and ready to fly beyond.

In fact, more than anything else, his shirt made him feel like Spike Speeder. And that feeling always made the day interesting. Tying his shoes and grabbing his black jacket before he left, Calvin trudged out of his room and sulked into the kitchen. A pair of frozen waffles that didn't spend a moment in the toaster were wolfed down by the apathetic Calvin, both of his half asleep parents eating at the same slow pace as he was. Between bites of his waffles, Calvin watched and waited for a chance to steal a sip of his father's coffee. His father turned his gaze towards the section of the newspaper his mother was reading. Calvin reached over and took a silent sip, replacing the cup as quickly as possible, all with the quickness of a card hustler.

Newly hopped up on caffeine, his newest vice, Calvin finished the last bite of his waffle, and dashed out of the kitchen. His parents were stunned by the sudden change in Calvin's demeanor, and wondered if maybe all those prescription pills they had given him had side effects.