So alive

Kyle Thacter was ecstatic. He was about to execute a plan to achieve living out a life long dream he'd been coveting every moment he'd lived for his whole life. 

Man did he feel alive.

He was in the world's biggest furniture store in Omaha. The beautifully green and white behemoth known poetically by its actual name - Nebraska Furniture Mart. And let's be clear, you can't not be smart when you shop in a mart. 

Oh BOY did he feel like he was living in a way that made him feel alive. 

It was past the closing time as posted on the front door in the section that they had dedicated specifically to posting opening hours. They don't post closed hours, but yep, they sure as hell are implied.

God damn it he felt life was finally mostly about feeling alive. 

They'd made several announcements to 'finish your payments and please exit', one of the doors was already locked, and several others were about to join in on the fun, and while we're in the land of severality its an apt time to point out that several of the flat screen TVs had already been switched off, most people had left, a couple of others were heading for the door, and Kyle had totally not been noticed by anyone as he was playing dead next to a stuffed giraffe and a giant '&' symbol. 

Fuck him him this way to necrophilia he was living life was like a life affirming hero overcome with feeling alive! 

He was about to be in the store ALONE! 'I'm gonna sit in at least twelve recliners!' He thought to himself with bubbling glee, almost boiling over levels of bubbling, and glee almost dripping with ice storms of yippeeness! 'Maybe even see if I can fit in a fridge!'

But then it happened. Disaster. 

Shit full of blood for three or four days type horror. He'd fucked up. Possibly even fucked down. And worst of all, almost certainly fucked in. 

He realized that had he promised his dad that he'd come around and show him how to download jazz onto his laptop. 

What should he do? The options were as many, as they were variable as they were varied in the numeracy:

- Follow his dreams? 
- Follow through with his promise?
- Try and sit on twelve recliners, then maybe compromise and see if he could fit in an oven? 
- Something else? 

The potential results of these actions were as numerable as the were obviously dripping in obvious flames of numbered possibilities: 

- Diving headfirst into an end table hoping to dislocate his neck, before calling for his lawyer from a rolled up rug that he'd rolled himself up into all while screaming 'the mob did it, the mob did it', before making new friends with someone in the organized crime division of the FBI and hoping that they owned a jazz album he could borrow making the downloads unnecessary. 
- Bellowing 'the Egyptians invented furniture and now they're all dead! DEAD I TELL YOU'? Then inventing red paint out of rug fibers, before day dreaming he was in a factory copied painting of Paris, that was magically appearing in a mirror next to the fry pans, making eggs, flipping a bird like jackpot, and using this attention grabbing opportunity to ask an employee where the nearest exit is. 
- Try sitting in an oven that's SET to recline! 
- Stealing an employee's identity and escaping to Ohio where he could burn all his skin off with melted cheese and join a traveling freak show, masquerading as a stable freak experience, before taking a job at Goldman Sacks and firing their gold trader. 

Yep, he realized right then that he had options. 

He'd never felt so lived in a living life disc that was nothing but overwhelming feelings of being alive! Or, and this is where it gets even more exciting, possibly even something else! 

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