[ WP ] Your just a normal guy , working a normal job , driving a normal car , living at home , except for these damn visions .

`` That's right, the 93rd caller is getting flown to LA to see Imagine Dragons with a friend and have a private meet and greet with the band before the show! So let's hit those phones and see which lucky fan is getting a free trip to LA!'' 
 
 Morning traffic is awful, if you work in the morning. I work the third shift, so I leave for work at about 11:20 at night when the road is empty and the air is still. At this point, I'm mildly skeptical that this is happening. It seems out of character for the world, that DJ giving away a major prize package when almost no one will be listening. 
 
 I guess that is n't that crazy, giving away tickets on the third shift. I know the rock station late night DJ has his own prize book he gives tickets away out of, but it was the exuberance that really got my hackles up. Nobody working third shift is that happy. At least nobody I've ever met. 
 
 I do n't know. Maybe he's new? 
 
 `` Am I... am I the 93rd caller, Johnny Boy?'' I knew it was him before he spoke because I could smell him. He's bleeding all over my seat. Shitting on it too. That's the kind of thing you expect someone to say `` No one talks about that'' after, but that's not true. We're in the era of modern medicine, most people know you shit yourself when you die. There was even a Southpark episode about it. 
 
 `` You sure are buddy! I'm going to put you on hold and we'll get your details, but first let me hear it, who's the radio station that made it all happen?!'' 
 
 `` Wild 93 point fuckin' 3 Johnny Boy.'' His voice was raspy from the grave, it's been a while since he spoke, but still wet and gurgly - that's the blood. I do n't even know why I hear him talk, he damn sure did n't have much to say last time he was alive. He just grabbed at the sleeves of my shirt and stared through my eyes. He was losing alot of blood, probably was n't even seeing me. 
 
 `` Hey, hey buddy, come on you ca n't say that on the radio, it violates the terms and conditions of the contest. I ca n't give you these tickets man.'' 
 
 `` Oh, that's okay Johnny Boy, somethin' tells me I'll be busy that night...'' He burst into a cacophony of hot sticky laughter and chunks of tissue splattered against the passenger side of my windshield. Goddamnit, I'm going to have to get the whole damn car detailed by the time he's done. 
 
 At least I'm not off my game. Nobody gives away tickets at night. I do n't have time for this shit, man. There's supposed to be an inspection tomorrow, big bosses coming through to make sure everything is on the up and up. I need to have my head in the game. 
 
 I shut the radio off. I ca n't make John Tippit go back to the grave he's supposed to be laying in, but I can stop him from fucking with the third shift DJ. Guy's got a job, he does n't need that shit. 
 
 He put his hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze. 
 
 `` How's you doing there, Johnny Boy? Long time... no see. No see, you get it Johnny?'' I let go of the wheel to take his hand off my leg and lost control of my car. We careened off the road and flipped twice, maybe three times down the hill. My name is n't even Johnny. I do n't know why he calls me that, I think it's just the way he talked. Maybe it is n't. I do n't know. I never talked to him. I fucking hated him. I thought he was stupid, I did n't think he was cut out to be there and I just did n't like him. 
 
 I got out of the car and surveyed the damage. It looked alright. Definitely fucked up, but it might still drive if it were n't stuck at the bottom of a snowy hill. I pulled out my phone and fired off quick text to John, 
 
 * Gon na be late, not too long* 
 
 and put my phone back in my pocket to begin the trudge to work. I was only a few miles out. I just hope he does n't fucking follow me. I felt a little staccato of buzzing at my hip. Morse code for John. Did you know you can do that? You make your own custom vibrations for peoples ring tones, right there from the phone, no software or anything. I thought it was cool. Everybody is like that in my phone. Except people with really long names, those assholes just fuck everything up. 
 
 *Whats up* 
 
 *Slipped off the road, nbd* 
 
 *Where ill get u* 
 
 *Just a few miles away, nbd, I'll be there in a bit* 
 
 *No come on man u cant take the points* 
 
 *Just passed Riverside* 
 
 `` We going for a ride Johnny? You know how I love to go for a ride. Maybe if you and me had gone for more rides, I'd still be alive. You ever think about that Johnny? They always said walking was safer than driving, but I died walking Johnny. I died fucking walking, you stupid prick mother fucker!'' He began to rail, striking me with a flurry of blows, and then we came tumbling down. 
 
 Rolling in the snow, trying to gain leverage, but he's covered in blood still and hard to hold on to. He hits me again and again. I get a few shots of my own in, but they just strike the wet mass of tissue where his chest should have been. It was a mess down there. He did n't seem to notice. Makes sense though, he probably does n't go to many parties these days. 
 
 Finally, my fist found bone. Most of his face was still pretty well together, and a good shot to the jaw got him up off of me. He shied sway from me after that, like a beaten dog. Maybe that's not right. He shied way like a fucking dingo or a jackle, waiting for me to fall over dead so he could eat my soft tissues before the predators who could kill their own food showed up. 
 
 John pulled up and flashed his lights. I started walking over to the truck when he got out and came rushing over to me. He had this crazy ass look on his face and I asked him what the deal was. 
 
 `` You're fuckin' mangled dude, you ca n't fuckin' work like this, are you insane?!'' 
 
 My arm is broken, my face is awash with blood. My clothes are ripped in several places. 
 
 `` Yeah. I guess I got a little more banged up in the crash than I thought man, I feel fine. I did n't even notice. Really. Adrenaline maybe.'' 
 
 I looked back over my shoulder and I could see my car was pretty well totalled. The hill was covered in ragged gashes where I'd apparently crawled up. 
 
 `` Come on, man. We'll take you to the medical office at work, have them take a look at you and see if you need to hit a real hospital or not. Either way, I've got you.'' 
 
 `` Thanks, man. You do n't mind if I ride in the back again, do you?'' 
 
 `` That why you crashed?'' 
 
 `` Yeah.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, that's fine man.'' 
 
 John knew about my uninvited guest in a tangenial sort of way. He knew I did n't like to ride up front when I could see him. Made me feel cramped and claustrophobic. I did n't mention that if I let Thomas Denworth sit in the front seat with us that I'd be able to smell him in that truck weeks later, and that I'd see the stains he'd leave on the seats until John got his truck detailed and upholstered. People do n't need to know everything, you know?
