The alarm pierced the silence of Chris’ room. He rolled out of bed, knife in hand. Within seconds, the clock was in pieces on the carpeted floor. He dropped the knife and walked barefooted into the bathroom. By the time he had washed his face and relieved his aching bladder he had worked up quite a hunger. Chris charged down stairs imagining himself a racing aardvark. He prepared himself a bowl of Tootie Frooties and chugged down a small glass of scotch. He was ready for his big day. Today was the day he would ask his dream girl out. Svetlana Gerfundale. Just thinking of her brought warm feelings rushing through him like his blood was replaced with hot motor oil. Chris raced outside, imagining himself an aardvark once again, and dived into his car. He couldn’t contain his excitement.