It feels like sandbags are pulling down both of Jon’s eyelids.
He’s doing a poor job of not falling asleep.
Once more his eyes open, they drearily catch a quick glimpse of the 2004 hit, I, Robot starring Will Smith.
However, the sandbags win this time as Jon drifts off into the dream world.
His last thought after his eyes close, but before he officially leaves this world is, sometimes there’s just nothing like watching a classic movie in a hotel room waiting to go eat dinner later.
All of a sudden Jon is chasing a robot, he doesn’t remember why but it feels important.
The robot cuts left down an alleyway.
Jon, close behind, cuts left soon after. Good thing I’ve been running on the treadmill recently. After turning the corner he sees the robot jump the fence.
“Fuck...”
He sprints up to the grimy green trash can and hoists himself up. Then he grabs onto the fence, slicing his hand almost immediately. Ignoring it, he pulls himself up, swings one leg over, then the other.
After sitting up there thinking about it for a minute, he finally jumps down.
He runs down the rest of the alleyway, looks both ways, then realizes he lost the robot.
Still not knowing the importance of why he was chasing the robot, he shrugs it off, and contemplates getting a massage, since the mildly overweight Latina lady hanging out the door directly to his right is offering it to him, or, sit and grab a coffee.
After all the running he just participated in he decides a massage is the better option.
As he enters the establishment the beads cackle as he parts them. The lady barks in his direction, “It’s 35 dollars for the ‘full package.’”
After checking his pockets, he pulls out some cash, counts it, and, somehow, has the exact amount needed, of which, he hands all of it over to her.
She grabs his hand and takes him back to the room.
Once back there, she asks him to disrobe, but doesn’t leave.
Which he finds odd, because usually they leave and let you put a towel on.
Not being a self-conscious person, he takes his shirt off, folds it, and sets it on the lonely chair in the corner. He drops his trousers, folds them, and puts them with the shirt. He doesn’t have underwear on, which is odd because he always wears them.
Now naked, he lays on the table, face smushed down in the little hole, and waits for the small talk to start.
…Silence…
The ‘masseuse’ wastes no time and proceeds to slide a lubed finger into his relaxed asshole.
Jon jolts awake to a very intense ending of I, Robot where they are destroying the evil AI.
Well, I guess she wasn’t an actual masseuse, I should have gotten coffee, he thinks to himself as he gets up groggily, sits on the edge of the bed, and after missing a few times, finally gets a shoe on his foot.
Eventually both shoes manage to get secured tightly to his feet. Jon lights up a joint, takes a very large inhale, lets out a mesmerizing puff of smoke, then puts it out to save for later.
He slaps his hands on both knees, presses down, and stands up.
“Time for dinner I guess.”
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