Jim drove his mom's old 70 Camero.  It wasn't a bad car, as far as it moved when he hit the gas and sometimes stopped when he slammed the break hard enough to cause a pain to shoot up his leg.  It was the color of a forest canopy after it got some bad dirt.  There was a long trail of smoke that followed behind it like groupies rushing after a star who was way past his prime.  The one benefit the car had over others was people moved out of the way when they saw it coming.  Even as it moved like a tin can rolling down a hill the old muscle car still got some respect.  It was the closest thing an American had to royalty.  

To say he was late wasn't technically true.  Sure, he was not on time, but he wasn't so far off the time that it would go on some kind of paperwork that could lead to trouble somewhere down the road.  Still, the boss didn't look too happy to see him.  

"Jim."  The old man said through a thick beard and mustache combination which would've granted him immediate entry into ZZtop, if the group allowed new members purely on the basis of appearance.  
	
"I know.  I know."  Jim mumbled, wrapping his apron around his waist and putting his cap on.  "I'm sorry.  I woke up late.  It was this weird dream."

The man started to say something but stopped and gave his employee a look.  "Was it the pig one again?"  Jim shook his head.  "Shame.  That would've been two weeks in a row.  I'm pretty sure that's close to a world record."  He waved Jim off before the young man could say something.  "But never mind that, or your lateness.  Did you see the news?"

Jim blinked.  "Uh.  No.  Was I supposed to?"  He blinked again because that's what eyes did and he didn't have any say in the matter.

"Look."  The man pointed to a screen on the counter.  On it there were long glowing slashes in the air like cuts without any skin to exist on.  "Damn thing just appeared at the center of town this morning.  Nobody knows anything about them.  There's nothing toxic the guys in white coats can detect but there's a quarantine around the area.  Just in case."  The man turned to Jim and narrowed his eyes.  "Hey, did you get a tattoo?  I thought you hated those things?"

"What?"  Jim looked around.  

"There's a tattoo on your left arm.  It looks pretty nice, actually.  What's it supposed to be like some kind of snakes from mythology?"  Jim looked down at his left arm.  Yesterday it was tanned just like the rest of him but now it was covered with crisscrossing blue and yellow lines and some strange symbols in black he'd never seen before.  "Oh crap!  I'm going to get beat when my mom sees this."  He rushed over to the faucet and tried to scrub it off but whatever it was wouldn't leave.  

"NEvermind that."  The boss said, and pointed at the register.  "Everyone called in so that's your job for the day.  Don't cause any fires, again."  He didn't wait for a reply and turned out and went into his office.