Historical Hallucinations

2. Procrastination

John Hudson got in his car to meet with someone in his hometown of Chicago.  He was twenty five years old and searching for two things: someone to love and a job.
He had wavy brown hair, and brown eyes.
History was the subject he majored in.  He was looking for some job along the lines of a historian or something like that.
He got out of his 1990 Ford Escort. It was a decent car; it could take him where he needed to go.
Standing in front of John was the plaza where he was supposed to meet a guy named Mr. Carter, who would officially
grant him his new job. Hopefully.  Although it wasn't his preference, John was still excited to try teaching.
He found a nice table to sit at with Mr. Carter.  They shook hands. 
"Hi, Hudson," greeted Mr. Carter.  "Nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, sir," he smiled. 
The sun was beating down like it was a hot, summer beach day.  People were outside, getting some fresh air and soaking in the sun's rays.
"So, have you decided on being a history teacher at Windy High?" asked Mr. Carter.
John nodded his head.  "Yes, sir.  I have decided that I would like to teach at Windy High."
"Wonderful!  With your talent, the school's history program will be greatly enhanced!"
They enjoyed a nice deep dish cheese pizza. 
"Now, there is a placement test to make sure you're teaching material, but I'm sure you'll do just fine," said the man, pulling out his briefcase.
"Is the test about all aspects of history?" John wondered. 
Mr. Carter sipped his drink and eyed him.  "Yes.  My recommendation is to know everything by heart from in these books.  Every subject needs to be covered.  It's part of the Advanced World History Program."
He handed the young adult a small stack of books. 
"Can they be a small stack of pancakes?" joked John.  He was a naive adult sometimes. 
Mr. Carter laughed.  "Sure.  Eat them and absorb the knowledge.  Anyway, the entry test is in three weeks. Good luck."
With that, he rose, turned, and marched away.  John was left sitting out in the plaza alone.  At least he had his books.

John drove back to his little apartment in northern Chicago. He had a rather boring life.
He did have friends and a girl in his life. She wasn't into him, though.
He rode the elevator up to floor three. His room is 303, which is close to the elevator shaft.
He unlocked his door and in front of him was a boring, gray room. He knew his apartment needed a renovation.
Silence.  That and the dust on the furniture were the only things that were in the room.
John set the leftover food in the fridge, and the books on the coffee table.  He sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands.  His sighs echoed throughout the lonely, silent room.
"What am I gonna do?" he wondered out loud.
He scratched his mini beard. He wasn't a hairy guy, but like most men, he had hair on his chin.
Grabbing his books, he headed to his room to review.

Two hours later, after tireless remembering, he fell to the clutches of sleep. The nap gave him energy to study more.
John was a tiny bit rusty on his history, but with some brushing up, he could be the wiz he once was.

He was sprawled on his bed, snoring away. A book was on his face.
He only went through a quarter of the first book. There was no way he would be able to memorize the facts.

John woke up in a pool of sweat. A book spine was kissing him.
He jumped up and looked at the time.
It was 9:45, and the gym wouldn't be letting anyone else in at 10!
He dressed into his athletic clothes and drove to the gym, which was about ten minutes away.

After working out, he headed back home to study.
The books were calling him, beckoning to him. He tried to struggle away, but he couldn't. The test would be very challenging,
John sat down at his desk and flipped through the pages.  There was an overwhelming amount of pages in each book.
"I'm never gonna be able to know all this," he complained rubbing his aching head.
John decided to call up his best friend from college, Tyco.
"What's up, man," he said. "You want to hang out at my place? I'll have snacks and stuff."
"Sure, just give me ten minutes," Tyco answered. "I'm busy right now."
"Okay, see ya," John said as he hung up the phone.
He took one last fleeting glance at the books before turning away. Studying would come later.

Tyco was an alcohol addict. He loved himself a good beer and champaign when the time was right, which the time was right to him all the time.
He knocked on the door, waited for John to open, and burst in with a couple beers.
"Hey!" he said. "Look what I got!"
John laughed. "Cool."
They hung out and watched the Chicago Bears game for a while.
"Okay man, you have to go now," said John. "I have to study for a test that I need to take in order to get a job."
"What job?" Tyco asked.
"History teacher."
"Ooooh, sorry to hear that."
"Why?"
Tyco shrugged. "I don't know, it's just being a teacher sucks."
"Nah, it doesn't suck, but it might not be a dream job."
"Whatever you say dude. Bye."
"Later."

John was at his desk, trying to concentrate on reading, but he couldn't. He kept getting distracted.
This was the most he ever had to review, and his eyes were throbbing.
He laid on his bed while reading about the Mongols. A minute later, he was out for the night.
Little did he know, he would have the most realistic dream ever.