Fans twirled above like helicopters. The refrigerator hummed out loud. A nightlight glowed in the color red. He sat in the dark, killing bugs as they marched on his arm.

A warm can of beer sat on the table next to him. He opened it the day before. Forgot all about it. Woke up, and there it was, waiting for him; an Old Style at room temperature. Another bug trudged on his skin. They played in his hair. He stood up and violently shook the creatures off. Some landed on the rug while others scurried across a hardwood floor. The old man drank what was left of the beer.

As morning came, he woke up in the glaring sunlight. The bugs had disappeared. He wondered if it was a dream. Bugs. Stale beer. He shook the empty can. A cockroach crawled out. The old man laughed. He looked around the trailer. Fans still twirled. The refrigerator hummed. It was no dream. This was his life.