The roosters always wake up the farmer, but the alarm clock doesn't wake up the fire fighter. He's a heavy sleeper, not even a trumpet in his good could wake him up, though, the only thing that wakes him up is the smell of the burning flesh and the warmth of the blazes. He had forgotten to take out the roast again, and now it was burning the skin and meat off the bone.

He scurried off the couch, dropping the remote and knocking the batteries out of it, and ran to the kitchen. Black fumes emitted from the oven and covered the ceiling. He threw on the oven mitt, using the Lord's name in vain as he pulled out the silver oven pan. It slipped, more like he threw it, out of his hands and to the stove top. As he stared down at it, he began to curse silently to himself.

That was his meal for tonight after he got home from the park. Now he had to find something else in his house to eat; for a fire fighter, he made less than minimal wage due to his greedy boss. He looks through his pantry and only finds a half full box of cereal and a single carton of crackers. His pay was supposedly scheduled for last Sunday, but his boss refused the bill and used it to pay for his own debts. This was the fifth time this year his boss had done that to him.

What could he do, though, it's not like he could go up to his boss and tell him straight out that he grew tired of his shit and demand for his pay while not expecting a fight to break out get him and his boss arrested thanks to his boss's short temper. Yeah, that's a wonderful idea, even better than the one that he had to just lie down on the couch and watch some TV before he had to go out to the park in less than two hours.

His thoughts broke up by the phone as it vibrated in his back pocket. He reached back and pulled it out; he flipped it up and saw who it was. The assistant for the CEO, either calling to confirm his arrival at the monorail or confirmation for their appointment after the visit to the park. She always wants to have these appointments with him, which they always end in either her pushing him down, or vice versa. For the past year or so, it escapes his mind, she asked him to meet with him and expressed her feelings for him.

He looked up at the door number and shook his head. He shouldn't do this, yet, it's not something he could just skip. He sighed to himself softly and knocked on the door; immediately after, she opened the door and wrapped her arms around him. Surprised, he was left in shock, but he managed to lift his arms and hug her back.

"Welcome to my paradise!" She said and moved out of the way so he could enter; he did and she closed the door. She hurried in front of him and motioned to a sofa and a chair. He picked the chair and sat down as he took off his shoes; he watched as she took off her shoes and sat on the couch, watching him. The two sat in silence until he cleared his throat and she spoke.

"You know, Beck, I've grown to like you for the past six years, and I just need to know," she started as she blushed, "do you like me...?" He started at her, looking into her eyes.

"Not now, no. I don't really know you, though," he responded and looks around the room, "if we spent more time together, I might, but not as of now."

"I feared that," she said silently, "it's a good thing I took that half day then! We can chat, and I can make you dinner, what do you say?" He nodded absently and she stood up slowly. She walk by him and chuckled as her foot brushed past his. She continued to the kitchen and turned to him. "What will it be?"

"Anything you want to make, I'm not a picky eater," he responded and looked around more. She giggled and turned back to the stove as he stood up. He walked over to the large cabinet she has in the corner of the room and picked up one of the frames; the photo consisted of two people, Rose and another man. He looked at another photo, and saw the same man; he was in each photo, including one labeled "Best Brother Forever".

He pressed the answer button just in time.

"Hey, honey, you ready for today?" The assistant said with a perk to her voice. "Oh, and congrats! It's our one year anniversary! I'm surprised we were able to go this long without her noticing. I can't believe she doesn't even know! I mean, it's not like we hide it or anything, but I'm glad she doesn't know. It'd be hard to work with her if she knew that I stole the love her life," she chuckled softly, "oh, and I forgot to mention yesterday, the park won't open until twelve, and since it's only nine now, we have another hour to talk, maybe?"

"Uh-huh. Happy anniversary to you too... I'm sorry, though, I was going to run down to the station real quick before I had to get ready, you know, as a routine," he replied, bluntly but with a hint of anxiety. "By the way, can we go get something to eat after words? I, kinda... I burnt my dinner and only have cereal and crackers left in the pantry." He looked away and walked over to the couch. He counted in his head. Her responses always came ten seconds after his.

"Sure, honey, whatever you want! Hey, I can make you dinner like the first night we dated. Remember the horrible excuse for an egg?"

He looked down at the plate before him and nearly gave in to the laughter. The yolk's of the eggs broke and made a tear shaped trail down the top of the egg; the bacon burned and the toast had scars from the toaster on one side of it. He looked up at her, who positioned herself just across the table. She had taken off her stockings and rubbed her foot against his inner leg while eating the dinner she made. A chill went up his spine, but he forced himself to pick up the fork.

"You ok, dear?" She asked in a pleasant tone, almost like a loving wife. "Anything I can get you? Salt, pepper, anything?" He shook his head and reached down with one hand, swatting her foot. She lifted the other and rubbed the outside of his legs. "Hehe, silly boy."

"Ms. Long, please stop this, it feels weird," he stuttered as he shivered again. She raised the first leg back up and rubs both his legs, continuing to eat the dinner normally. "Please, stop..."

"What's wrong, dear? You enjoy feet?" She said teasingly. He shook his head and she sighed as she lowered her feet. "Dear, just admit it so we can skip it, okay?" He started at her and slowly nodded. "Good, now..." She raised her feet again and rubbed his upper thigh.

"Robert, you there?! Good! I was telling you to just be careful! I don't want you burning yourself anytime soon," she said jokingly. He sighed and lied on the couch. She quickly added: "I didn't mean it like that! L-look, all I'm saying is I want you safe, or me. Okay?"

"I will, I will. I've got a question. What did you want to do that first night we were together?" He asked and could tell she started to clam up on the other end; he smiled and ran his hand through his hair.

"I, uhm... I just wanted to have a night with you, that's all. There wasn't anything else... w-well, I'll see you later then, bye bye!" Before he could respond, she hung up on her end; he closed the phone and shut his eyes.

The smoke filled his lungs as he grabbed the hand of a small child. He pulled on the arm and it came toward him without the body attached to it. He dropped to the ground and stared at the burning carousel before him. The screams filled his ears and he stepped closer to the burning body of the child. He could feel the flames near his body and his hands starting to burn.

"Beck! Get out of there!" One of his squad members said. "You're getting too close to the fire!" He ran up and pulled Beck back; Beck grabbed and threw the squad partner past him and on to the blazing horse. The fire scorched the suit and his body to a crisp as Beck returned to his senses. He back up and looked around; there, around him, was the park from hell.

He ran over to another ride, The Scrambler, and entered the control booth as the safety locks on the cars broke and launched the different riders on to their heads, cracking it open like a nut on the ground. He managed to turn the ride off, but it was too late; all the riders flew to different parts of the park.

He was another opportunity to save someone when he looked over at The Glyder starting to swing its hand gliders faster and more out its sockets. He hopped out the booth and ran down the Runway as a young woman looked up at the cart coming closer to her. He jumped and pulled her out of the way just in time, but dropped her from his arms when he felt warm liquid on his body. He stared down at the body before running and accidentally hitting another woman. She falls to the ground and an octopus leg falls at her feet.

He slowly lifted his eyelids and looked down at his phone. He had slept for two hours and missed six calls from Rose. He rushed to the bedroom and threw clothes from the dirty pile to the bed, found a shirt that went well with his black pants and that didn't smell too bad. He pulled it down over his head and grabbed the car keys off the coffee table on his way out his front down. He hurried down the flight of stairs and waved to the landlord as he got into his Jeep. His turned the ignition and drove out the driveway; he followed the direction off of his GPS and got out of the city.

On the radio, as he was driving down the intersection, Boulevard of Broken Dreams started playing. He tapped the steering wheel with one hand put his right arm out the window as he whizzed by the different types and colours of cars. His hair flew in the breeze, some covering his right dark green eye. The song finished and Machinehead played, but the station started to get static and most of the song grew inaudible except for the beginning.

"Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, breath in," the song repeated until the station cut to complete static. He reached over and fiddled with the knob for the radio, while steering with his knee, and got it to another channel; he turned left off the intersection and down the exit to reach the entrance for the new monorail station. He cruised up and down the rows until he found the parking spot at E48 on the left side of the lot.