||it's 3:45, your taxi's not arrived, and i don't think that he's coming||

The town was almost dead. Only a few cars drove around the streets of Pogtopia. The roads where cracked and bumpy. The paths where always empty and the street always flickered with bad electricity.

But one car was still driving.

The car was yellow. Black and white blocks had a repeating pattern as a line around the middle of the vehicle. A big, pathetic, sign above car explained the insane hour he was driving at.

Taxi.
It read. The text was fonted up and thickened. The letters was easy to make out for people to be able to spot and see.

It was a good car. And it drove fast on the streets.

The driver looked in the review window with a glance. Huffing to himself when he, as expected, saw no one else behind him.

The hand that was currently gripping the steering wheel clenched. His shoulders where tense and his eyes burned form the lack of sleep.

What fucking asshole decided to order a taxi at 5:43 AM in the morning? He thought. Annoyance seeping around him like dust.

The radio music buzzed around the inside of the car. Loudly playing instruments or singing some sad solo. The man didn't really care.

He looked back towards the review window. His brown eyes was almost entirely hidden by the muddy colored locks he had falling down his face. They where knotty and probably extremely unhealthy. He didn't have the motivation to care for them. Shoving them into a beanie seemed enough.

He pushed up his rounded glasses on the bridge of his nose before focusing back on the road. The lights flickered green and he was off driving again.

At the speed he was going? He was probably breaking a hell lot of fucking laws. Forcing his car to rumble though the worn out grounds they call streets and drive on red lights.

It didn't matter.
He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Another red light blinked. But the brunette couldn't get himself to even care a single bit. He was so close to the destination, so why stop now?

He pulled the handle a bit to harsh and vehicle drove on.

And, well, it's not like anyone would see him breaking the laws.

As much as he despise is boss, and as much as his boss probably hates him, they both know he needs this to survive.

The paycheck was small and an even more sad of a excuse than the driver himself.
But money was money.

It payed the bills, it gave him food.
He didn't need anything more.

It was all just fine.

He re-clenched the steering wheel. His hands felt sticky and sweaty from holding it so much. Disgust slowly crept up his face.

A teenager boy stood under a perfectly well working street lamp. It shocked the brunette to see something functionally working.

He blinked once, twice, until he pulled over to the kid.

"Are you my Taxi?" The boy asked. He had blond curls. Similar to his own. They even looked equally poorly taken care off. The teen had tilted his head like a child. Tired, shimmering blue eyes looking into the brunette's own emotionless ones.

"No, it's Wendy's. Tell me your order." The man said dryly. Slowly unlocking the doors.

The kid snorted. Grabbing onto the handle and taking a seat in the back of the car.
Good. No small talks. The adult thought. Bitterly starting up the car again.