Johnny was never good at keeping himself occupied between heists and murders, kidnappings and hold-ups. He knew one thing though, Tuesday nights were his. On Tuesdays, after a long day of planning for another attack, he'd eat. He'd eat anything he wanted: pizza, cake, brownies, spaghetti, anything. Whatever he felt like that night.
While eating he'd watch a movie. He liked scary movies, and action movies, they gave him ideas. But mostly he preferred comedies, tragedies and, above all, chick flicks.
While finishing the movies he would clean his guns, make sure they were perfect for when he needed them. He'd clean up his big apartment, while listening to music. He liked all kinds of music, but pop and hip-hop were his absolute favorites. He would then play video games for a couple of hours, drinking a beer or two. He liked shooting games, though he was horrible in-game. He would then read a book, he liked fantasies, but he mostly read comic books.
Anything he could get his hands on. They helped him escape reality for an hour or so.
By ten o'clock he was ready for bed, but he didn't go to sleep until around midnight. He'd have a bedtime snack, take a shower (sometimes they ranged from a half hour to an hour or more, he liked showers, they gave him time to think) and get his pajamas on. He'd pet his German Shepard, sweet, sweet Alice. She was menacing every night except Tuesdays.
He would curl up in bed, turn on a movie or television show that he wouldn't watch, and close his eyes. He would let himself go to his dream world. One where he was rich and happy and was married and had children, one where he was perfect, without having to commit any crimes. One where he was successful. He would finally drift off into sleep, dreaming about the next Tuesday he would have to himself.
