When Matt had a Dream

Chapter 1 - Mentality

A dirty looking white guy who's somewhere between being a man and a boy has on his dirt smudged mechanics shirt with the name plate that reads, MATT. The shirt is unbuttoned revealing a stained wife beater underneath. He's anxiously gripping the steering wheel as he sit's waiting for the light to change green. 

Frustration reaches it's peak and he smacks the steering wheel hard, "Fucking stupid asshole!" Imitating someone's voice. "Can you come in tomorrow morning?" To himself. "No, I fucking can't come in tomorrow morning... Why? Because I hate this stupid job with your bullshit minimum wage! It's stupid, it makes no God damn sense why I'm still here at the same fucking place working my ass off after two fucking years, for what?! Huh?" 

 His Gas light beeps flashing bright catching his attention, "Fucking great, just what I needed! Thank you fucking God!" He looks up at the sky with a challenging tone, "No, I'm serious thank you! I really appreciate all this bullshit your giving me to deal with!"

The light turns green, almost instantly the car behind him honks, "It just turned one fucking second ago! Can't you be patient for ONE FUCKING SECOND!" Matt screams at the drive leaning halfway out his window. The man driving by flips Matt off. 

Matt, instantly furious, throws his car into gear, his tires squeal as he chases closely behind signaling and screaming "Pull Over!" The guy speed's away from Matt. Matt honks his horn waving his fist out the window "That's what I fucking thought!" He leans back into the car looking to his left at a gas station "$2.23! are you serious?! What is the gas made of gold or something?!"

At the gas station Matt stands with his foot anxiously tapping the ground as he stares up at the meter pulling his debit card out of his wallet. Inserting his debit card, it's rejected. "What?! You've got to be kidding me! We're on a roll today!" He shoves his card back in fighting with the machine. "You better fucking take it!" The card's declined again "Fuck you, stupid machine!" He smacks the side of the machine hard. The Soccer Mom in the gold SUV next to him stares at Matt as she dispenses gas. Matt notices, turning to the woman, "What?! You got a fucking problem?" The woman quickly turns back to minding her own business. 

Matt pulls out his phone dialing a number holding the phone up to his ear. "Yeah, hello?! Hi I'm just standing here at the gas station looking stupid as hell because my card keeps getting declined, but I know for a fact I have enough in there because I just deposited a check this fucking morning!" 

Grabbing out a credit card from his wallet he slips it into the machine still arguing over the phone. "What do you mean it takes forty eight hours for the money to transfer into my account?! It's my fucking money!"

"Your sorry doesn't solve the problem, now does it?!... Okay, Well, can you at least tell me who this random person is on my banking statement withdrawing $340 dollars out of my account then?!... What do you mean you don't fucking know! This is bullshit!"

His full attention is on the phone call and he's literally yelling into the phone in the middle of the gas station. People all around watch Matt like a spectacle. "Excuse me?! No, I'm not going to calm down! NO!... Because you're sitting here telling me that pretty much anyone can just reach into my bank account and take whatever they fucking please and you, being my bank, has no clue who it is? What if I did that to your account?! What if you trusted me to secure your money and when you came by to pick it up I said 'Sorry, some guy said that you gave him permission to have it, no questions asked, it's just gone!' Huh?!" Matt's demanding an answer and receiving none, then in the most sarcastic tone. "Would you be happy about it?! Would you be fucking calm?! I didn't think so!" He finally begins dispensing the gasoline. "Yes, I would love to speak to a manager about this!"