The day is Friday. You refresh your mail box one last time, hoping and crossing everything which comes in pairs. There are no new mails. You check your phone. You check the time. 06:42 You look around the small little cubicle you inhabit for five days and three/four nights a week. You want to yell ‘ so long suckers! See you on Monday! ’. You don’t. You are James Bond walking away from a building which is going to self immolate itself in your absence. In slow motion. The traffic was an elephantine snake. You don’t care. You fling your bag. You are Michael Jordan. You kick off your shoes. You are Michael Jackson. You press play on your iPod and open a bottle of beer. You are a mean party animal. You light a cigarette. Feel the bitter taste coat the insides of your mouth. You drop your pants and take a wee. You are the musical water fountain. The iPod plays a slow song. You jump, shake, pull up your pants and run to change the song. You are the DJ. You suck hard on the first cigar...