Scott awoke in a daze, his hair covering his eyes. He rolled over to find he wasn't on his bed, but his floor. "Wha-?" He murmered, looking at the clock. Nothing. He followed the cord with his eyes, realizing that it was around his legs and unplugged. Just then he remembered what happened last night; he tripped on the cord to his alarm clock, falling into the wall, knocking him out.<span style="font-style: italic">God damn, I knew I'd have to move that...</span>Scott unwrapped the cords from his legs and darted to his phone, sitting on his night stand.<span style="font-style: italic">10:24</span>"Son of a bitch!" Scott let out loud, running into the bathroom apply some deodorant and brush his teeth at the same time. He quickly changed into the black MUSIC SHOP polo, not even bothering to change his pants.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000">-20 minutes later, MUSIC SHOP-</span><br/><br/>"Scott... you can't keep doing this." mumbled Scott's manager, a short Latino woman.<br/><br/>"I know, I know. I tripped and passed out last night."<br/><br/>"You klutz!" The woman yelled at him. "You're almost two hours late! If you keep this shit up, either I'm going to fire you or Mr. Newell will fire me!" Mr. Newell, the owner, was a fat man, who had no idea of anything in music, much like Scott.<br/><br/>"Look, Ramona--"<br/><br/>"That's Mrs. Carrera to you, Scott." She interrupted him, "Right. Mrs. Carrera, give me a few more chances." Scott begged.<br/><br/>"Scott, there's no need to beg yet." The manager sighed, "I'm not firing you yet, but you've gotta get your act together. Alright?"<br/><br/>Scott smiled and nodded, moving to his position on the counter waiting for customers.