[ WP ] When someone is murdered , their name appears on the skin of the killer . You wake up with a name on your arm and no knowledge of how it got there .

`` BRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRD'' 
 
 mhgamlmWorkmhhmShithmhh 
 
 `` BRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRDRD'' 
 
 mhmgrrhamhhmmmmhmmLATE 
 
 `` BRDRDRDRDRDRDR-'' 
 
 *SLAM* 
 
 OH CRAP 
 
 Shower shower shower- Wh-... OH SHIT 
 
 That was when Wrigley noticed what was broad upon his right forearm. Something beyond what could amount from a normal drunken stupor: The Laced Mark. One of the few rites of the dead, to be able to name the killer. It created a bubble in his mind; one that was sure to pop if prodded. Wrigley bit his nails and paced around the bathroom buttnaked. He did not know who this person was, he did not know where this person could be, he did not know what the police knew, he did not know if he would even be able to identify the body, he did not know. 
 
 Fuck work, I have to figure out where I was. I do n't remember where I was, 
 
 wait, 
 
 I was at home. 
 
 There was a frantic search through his kitchen, through his living room, through his room, through his garage, through his garbage. 
 He sat down in the kitchen with his hand on his head. Then he had a realization: he had to go to work, or else they would suspect he killed someone. He washed his hair, shaved, put on deodorant, dressed, and went off. There was no chance of someone recognizing his arm at work because he wore a longsleeve button-up shirt. 
 
 He worked as a car salesman at a Chevy dealership meeting with buyers and trying to get the best deal he can. The people that came in were often rude, but he understood it was part of the business. He believed his passion should be his greatest weakness. 
 
 Hello, sir, how may I help you? 
 
 `` You do n't remember me, from yesterday? The guy you sold that bunk fucking piece of trash too? I want a fucking refund.'' 
 
 I'm sorry, I have a medical condition - 
 
 `` Yeah you told me, prospag something. Fuckin' idiot.'' 
 
 Prosopagnosia. I have trouble remembering faces, or things that match with that face, like names. 
 
 He let out a chuckle to ease the tension. 
 
 Sometimes I ca n't even recognize my own face! 
 
 `` That's not gon na work, bud. I'm not getting jacked by you twice in a row. Let me see your fucking manager.'' 
 
 Sir, there are children here. If you do n't stop swearing at me, I'm going to have to kick you out. 
 
 The man let out a cough, and while doing so said `` Fuck off.'' 
 
 `` Oh, of course I'll stop swearing. Please show me to your manager.'' 
 
 Wrigley's day's are n't bad even when they are. Getting a job where he can practice looking at faces and communicating everyday is what keeps him alive. The only thing he's missing is a cute girl, and he's set. That's what he tells himself. This name on the arm thing has thrown a wrench into his plans. His family was never there for him, so he wants to be there for his. This is going to be the second thing he has to explain on dates. Third, if he plays his cards right. The manager knocked and said `` Wrigley'' in a slightly annoyed tone. 
 
 Wait. 
 
 He rolled up his right shirt sleeve 
 
 AND IT HIT HIM. 
 
 The manager opened the door 
 
 Get on the floor 
 
 Everybody walk the dinosaur.
