bad omen

you awaken in an
alley with your clothes
still on. you need a
shave, your eyes are
full of sand. you
remember vaguely
tripping and falling
at some point last
night and this is
where you landed. it
seems that people
have left money. you
are littered with one
dollar bills. someone
has made a pillow
out of your jacket
and put it under
your head. you check
your wrist to find
that you still have
your digital casio watch
still on. your wallet
and keys, and phone
are all still there.
there is even a tuna
fish sandwich wrapped
in saran wrap next
to you. you're hungry
so you open it up
and take a bite,
but spit it out. there
are dill pickles in
it. you hate dill
pickles. so you
throw the sandwich
across the alley where
it breaks against
the wall. out of nowhere
a gaggle of feral
cats come running out
to devour it, but not
the pickles. they don't
touch the dill
pickles. you can't
believe that someone
would do that to you,
to a sandwich. there's
only one person you
know who would have done
such a thing, your ex
wife. you look around
but she's not there. this
has put a large dent into
the whole day. it's a bad
omen and you're
barely out of bed.