Our Hero (#1)

Our skinny, messy-haired, 19 year-old hero wakes up in his small and shitty first floor studio apartment to the sounds of “Still Life With Hot Deuce On Silver Platter” by Titus Andronicus playing on his Red Firetruck Radio. He jumps out of bed, wearing only his boxers. He does 17 jumping jacks and 4 push-ups. He pulls on jeans, and a T-shirt printed with the phrase: “I’m all about understanding Anarchy." He tucks some rocks in his back pockets and reads Emily Dickinson's "I'm nobody! Who are you?" to his frog (which looks at him quietly from inside a small glass bowl next to his toaster). He fries himself an egg and eats it out of the pan, drinking a coke and reading a worn 1977 edition of LIFE magazine.  Occasionally he tears a page out of the magazine and tosses it into the air, yelling: "Montage!" (Meanwhile, outside, two thieves wearing ski masks and black leather gloves are preparing to break into and steal his neighbor’s car.) Our hero, coming to the end of his magazine, yells “To work! … Or NOT to work!” He quickly ties a blindfold onto himself and sprints as hard as he can out of his apartment door. He SLAMS into one of the thieves, whose head slams into the head of the other thief. THWACK! The two thieves fall unconscious into the street, thieving tools falling out of their hands. Our hero yells “Sorry...Maybe!” and runs off, zig-zagging, down the street. A beat cop turns the corner and comes upon the fallen thieves. The cop grins strangely, with a thought bubble reading “Now what?!” while our hero careens down the block into the distance.