I woke up.
Another day wasted and another day to waste. I brush back my hair and stare in the mirror. Chris Copperfield, this is your life. Your 23, single, jobless and lifeless. A 5ft 10 brown haired, blue eyed lowlife on a healthy diet of microwave meals and fast food. Even got wide selection of hand-me-down t-shirts to wear while coping with trying to work out what to do with the drab new day.
Only today I do have something to do, for today is Thursday, pub night.
So I wait around till about eight’o clockish watching the usual shite on T.V. till I hear the familiar 3 thuds on the door. I open it to find 6ft 2 of a square-jawed, long haired dumbarse staring at me. “Mornin’ Chris.”
“Gary, its 8’o clock in the evening you silly twat.”
“Uh….sorry Chris.”
Yep…this lard brained lump is Gary, a great mass of a man with curly brown hair down to his shoulders and face like an ogre. Only maybe a little more gormless. I don’t know why I put up with him for he is; a total smeghead. “Uh….Chris?”
“What is it now Gary?!?”
“Umm…..do you want to go down to the pub?”
“Gary, we have gone down the pub every Thursday for the past 5 years so today I thought I’d just sit here and shoot myself in the crotch with this invisible gun I’m holding instead.”
“Uh…ok Chris.”, he says as he walks out, banging his head on the doorframe so hard a picture falls off the wall but still doesn’t even make the big guy flinch.
Silly twat. I grab my coat and run after him leaving my flat/mess behind, heading down the corridor to catch up with Gary and explain to him about a certain thing called “sarcasm“. We walk down the stairs to the ground floor and make our way outside unveiling a beautiful view of our hometown Crudgington’s neglected streets flavoured with a healthy trimming of piss, broken bottles and the occasionsional puke. We take a left towards the pub, not saying a word to each other. I hunch over and put my hands in my pockets looking down towards the grime on the floor, wondering who made the large drips of dried blood splattered across part of the pavement. We take a right up a nearby street at the road sign where the 30 has been graffitied over to look like an 80. Bet the chav’s who did it didn’t even think anyone would notice. Then just on the left we find we reach our destination-a grotty old pub called the old kings head. I’m greeted by the familiar pot bellied landlord with the stupidly shiny head. “Morning Chris.”
“Bloody hell its 10 past 8 in the evenin’!!! You must as gormless as he is!”, I claim while pointing an accusing finger at Gary.
“Who?”
Silly twonk.  “Forget it. Just give us the usual thanks.”
And make it quick, for the gleam off your silly bald head is hurting my eyes. I mean does he use floor polish on that thing or what?!?! I can’t believe this is meant to be the highlight of my week…ah well…at least I can drown myself in a good pint of bitter and you can’t beat that. Except maybe with whisky. Ooo or rum. I take our pints to the usual table in the corner of the room and turn to give Gary a dull eye.
“So Gary….”
“Chris…uh..”
“So you been up to much this last week?”
“Umm….no.”
“Nothing??”
“Uh well…I went shopping yesterday.”
“Oh yea? You get anything nice?”, I ponder while taking a sip from my pint.
“Umm yea…got a carrot.”
I take the pint a away from my mouth and stare gob smacked at Gary. Bloody Hell. I can’t believe him. I really can’t believe this is meant to be the highlight of my week. THIS.
“Uh…Chris?”
“Yes Gary…..”, I reply with my head in my hands.
“Uhh….I was wondering if you wanted a carrot?” , he asks showing off the carrot protruding out his inside coat pocket.
That’s it. The chains are gone and hell is running rampage.
“Gary, FUCK OFF.”, I yell slamming my fist down on the table, just hard enough to spill my pint.
“ARRRGH FUCK!”
Now I’m screaming with rage. Whatever’s closest is my target. Lock on and destroy. The rage becomes my heel into a stray leg. Unfortunately I notice, my enemy for this half a second is actually the table leg. Beer and glass flies around the room like shrapnel. Oh God. WHY THE HELL THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?! I need to get out of here. So I go to the only place I know where I can get some privacy. I storm off towards the pub toilets leaving an oddly gob smacked Gary with beer dripping off his thick heavy brows.
“Um….C-Chris?”
“Not now Gary. I’m off to the bogs.”
“U-u-uhh ...w-want me to come to the bog with you?”
“Sod off Gary.”
I enter the toilets and sit down on a bog locking the door behind me. Any second now that fat bald-headed landlord’ll be banging on the toilet door demanding to know what the hell happened. I close my eyes and wish I was somewhere else…I mean why’d I have to be given this shitty life?! Why couldn’t I of been someone else?? Someone successful, like an actor, or a scientist? Hell, I’d probably even enjoy being a brick more than this crappy life. Then at lea…
“Evening Chris, ever wish you were someone else??”
I look up to find a clean-looking man in a suit with a bowler hat crammed inside the cubicle with me. For a second I gawp at him completely stunned trying to make sense of it. I’m totally frozen stiff.
“Ever wanted to be someone else hmmm?”
“GET OUT, SOD OFF!!”, I scream flailing and kicking trying to get away from the impostor.   
“You know it’s rude to ignore people Chris. You don’t want to be rude to me now Chris hmm?”
Once again hell rips off its chains.
“LEAVE ME ALONE, GET LOST!!!”, I scream roaring my war cry as I move forward to try and attack him, failing miserably being cramped unable to really move in the small space of the cubicle toilet.
“You really shouldn’t ignore people Chris. I mean it doesn’t make sense that your talking anyway because you can’t actually speak.”
Suddenly I stop. I want to scream more but no noise comes out. All I can do is look at him with the bewildered look of a lost puppy. “Ah, much better. Now as I was saying, do you want to be someone else, hmm?”
My voice comes back to me. “I….I d-don’t understand.”
“Look at yourself Chris. Your 23 and you still live off money from your parents.”
“I-It’s only a temporary loan!”, I argue, still scared, still panicking.
“It’s been ‘temporary’ for over 2 years Chris, since your parents forced you to move out. On top of that you’ve got no friends.”
“That’s not true, Gary’s my friend!”, I claim showing the slightest ounce of strength returning to me.
“Your ONLY friend Chris. Then again, you don’t treat him like one.”
I look down towards the bland tiled floor at my feet. Deep down I know he’s right…
“Chris, I’m offering you this one chance to escape all this. Give me the word and you can be anyone you want. An actor. A scientist. I can even make you a brick if you want.”
I regain my senses and think for a second.
“First of all I think you’ve a little explaining to do. Who are you? How do you know so much about me?? And the thing that’s bugging me the most…..how in the HELL did you end up in a toilet cubicle with me?!?!
“Its your fetish not mine Chris.”
“WHAT?!?!?!…whatever...just answer me!!!”
“I don’t need to tell you anything Chris. Take my offer or leave it.”
I’ve had enough of this freak already.
“Sod off you queer bastard.”
“Fine, fine. FINE. Okay fine. If that’s the way you want to play that’s fine by me. But one day though your going to have to wake up Chrisy. WAKE UP Chris”.
I woke up.