Welcome to the new world, Nick, I'm glad you've been preparing for it. Here, you see, nothing makes sense. Try, if you want, but you can't. This is the world where random chance and bad luck intersect just when you need status quo. Isn't that the way it's supposed to be, though? It makes for an interesting life, you have to admit.
Let's see, what have you got on your plate? A rendezvous with Sophia on Monday, the rough draft of a story due on Friday, Mordechai increasingly warning you of the Awakening, and your thirtieth birthday just nineteen days away. Wouldn't want to be you, not with your girlfriend becoming more and more upset with everything you do.
Maybe you should have another drink, friend, it makes Sarah's barbs less painful. And doesn't it make Mordechai's stories more -- or is it less -- plausible? After all, drinking worked for Mordechai. He thought he was possessed by an intelligent parasite and he got to play in the symphony. Of course, now he's little more than a step away from being a drunk. Or, maybe he is a drunk. But then, who cares when your seventy?
And here you are, ready to stumble into another new week on the heels of another drunken weekend. Days disappear quickly that way, don't they? They're just gone. And the voices seem more bearable, don't they. Just shrug them off, ignore them, or, if you dare, talk back to them. Let them know what you think. Do you know what you think?
If only you'd gotten married a year ago when Sarah first brought it up, then maybe you could be worrying about when to have children and where to buy a house. Your life wouldn't have been any different, you know. The same old hum-drum police reports and fires. Maybe all of this would make sense, then. You'd have grounded yourself. But maybe you want to leave. Maybe the foundation is what you fear and all this is a convenient excuse to end it all and start over. Isn't the beginning always better than the middle of a story? It's so full of hope and promise, just like the meeting of a new woman and the first kiss she gives you. Just like Sophia, yes? Or the woman from the book shop or the girl at the bar who caught your eye. Oh, wouldn't it be exciting to start again? But here, in the middle, with everything nothing but doldrums, you need something to shake it up.
And you wonder why the Monster is back now, after all these years?
TWENTY-FIVE