The Worst Day

[Brady]

This is torture. I don't wanna get up. God I don't wanna get up. I just wanna sleep. Just let me sleep..

Brady Williams peered up into the darkness offered by his closed eyelids. At least he still had that luxury.
His stomach growled loudly, and Brady winced invisibly as it churned and knotted itself, sending stabs of pain throughout his entire body.
He was so hungry he felt like he might vomit.

His eyes wrenched themselves open to reveal his bedroom ceiling, he stared at it blankly for a few moments before suddenly sitting upright and screaming at the top of his lungs, slamming his hands repeatedly on the mattress in a true-blue tantrum.

It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. Like he didn't have enough shit to deal with. All he wanted was to sleep, but he couldn't seem to sleep for more than an hour without waking up so hungry that he felt as if he literally might die if he didn't eat something. And he only got an hour if he was lucky.
He was running out of food, and he had no money to replace it. This situation was getting desperate, it had been going on for days. He was down to his last bag of Top-Ramen, and had nothing more to drink than water from the tap.

-continued-

[Brady]

And as if things weren't bad enough, he hadn't heard from Zoey since this whole thing started. Not a "Hey, how are you?", or a "I'm sorry for flipping out when you suddenly turned invisible during our date." Not even a "Hey, I can't be with someone I can't see, we're over. "
No, he hadn't heard a damn thing. She could as least be enough of a woman to break it off, and not just leave thing floating forever in limbo.

It wasn't as if he'd asked for this to happen..
Well that wasn't true... On many occasions he'd wished to just be invisible. But everyone makes wishes that don't ever come true, he didn't see anyone else suddenly and inexplicably winning the lottery, he didn't see loved ones coming back from the dead, he didn't see ugly fat girls suddenly turning into models and nerdy weak boys suddenly losing their pizza faces and being surrounded by Playboy bunnies.
No, it wasn't fair.

He stood up from the bed and nearly fell over as bright flashing stars overtook his vision. It was getting worse, the longer he went without food, the weaker he felt. Last time he'd nearly passed out waiting for the microwave to thaw the hamburger meat. Then he'd practically given his throat 3rd degree burns as he scarfed it down straight out of the skillet.
In fact it was still sore. His whole body was sore actually, as if he still hadn't recovered from his workout nearly 5 days ago. It wasn't even that intense, usually he went for 3 hours, this time he'd cut it short at 2, since he'd been late for his Date with Zoey.

-continued-

[Brady]

And that was when this whole nightmare had started, They had been in Manhattan, eating at a popular Italian place just a few blocks from Times Square itself.
He'd ordered spaghetti, of course. He wasn't really one for trying new things, Zoey on the other hand had ordered Bottarga, which the waiter had referred to as 'The Poor Man's Caviar'. And it wasn't long after that until everyone started to get this strange feeling. A half-dozen people blamed it on the food and left refusing to pay, two or three people fell asleep on their half-eaten dishes, and a glance out the window revealed the usually bustling inhabitants of the city to all be at a standstill, looking skyward.
Zoey had gone outside to look...

Brady ripped open the packet of Ramen, again wincing, unseen, as his stomach let out another gut-churning roar. The water just couldn't boil fast enough, and he ended up biting a chunk of un-softened noodles off of the square to hold him over until it was finished. He hadn't even made it to the couch before it was gone.
His stomach growled again, it wasn't enough. But he did have any more food..
Brady was almost in tears as he hesitantly tugged off his clothes and left the house. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned, he had no choice but to steal some food.

-continued-

[Brady]

He didn't want to walk to a restaurant, he didn't think he could, so he hopped in his Old Chevy and started it up. He tried not to laugh at the image of a truck driving itself. People were gonna be flipping out, but then again, the news had reports of all kinds of strange and unrealistic things happening recently, the crazy New Yorkers might not even think anything of it, if anyone even noticed that is.

His mind drifted back to that night while he fought the intense pain arcing through his body from the hunger and exhaustion.. That horrible, awful night.
Zoe had come back inside, nearly bouncing out of her skin with excitement.
"Brady you HAVE to come see this! There's a giant shimmery purple dome over the city! It's so beauti..." She stopped in mid sentence, a terrified look sweeping across her freckled face. Brady had asked her what was wrong, and shed done nothing but point to his hands.
He'd looked down.
He'd seen nothing. His hands weren't there.
He raised them up to his face, as if a closer look would make them visible again, then flexed his fingers, he could feel them moving. But he couldn't see them, they were just gone. He touched one empty space to the other, and wiggled his fingers again.
Yet again he felt them, they were there, they had just spontaneously become transparent.
And that was when the wave of ravenous hunger had hit him like a brick, he remembered crying out at the sudden paralyzing pain, and turning to devour his spaghetti in a horribly un-gentlemanly way.
"What's happening to you!" Zoey's voice had gone up 3 octaves, she was just under a screech now. "Where'd your head go? Or your hands! How can you be eating Brady? Your body is disappearing!"
He'd wanted to calm her down, to tell her he was fine, but his head was spinning, and suddenly he couldn't keep his transparent eyes open anymore. But he was still so hungry.
Grunting like a caveman, he lunged for her unfinished meal and devoured it, scooping it up in handfuls and cramming it in his mouth. He heard Zoey dry-heaving in the background, "Oh my god would you stop that? I can see everything!" She gagged again, and whirled around, running full speed toward the door.

And he hadn't seen her again. He'd tried to call after her, but his mouth was full of partially chewed food.
The next thing he remembered was being pulled from sleep by this now-familiar hunger. He'd had to break the glass doors of the restaurant to get out, someone had locked up without bothering to tell him they were closing. Looking back on it, he couldn't really blame them, He wouldn't have wanted to deal with a random set of clothes laying on a table that looked as if there was still a body in them.

-continued-

[Brady]

"Stupid bitch. That's why I don't deal with women. First thing goes wrong and they're gone." He mumbled aloud.

His vision blurred briefly, and he struggled to stay on his side of the street. The last thing he needed was to total his ride, that would be a horrible end to a horrible day.
His mood had gone from depressed to full on rage by the time he cam across the closest fast food place. The truck came to a screeching halt, he slammed it in park, ripped the keys out of the ignition and attempted to put them in his pocket.
"Oh.. right. God I hate this..." He tossed them under the drivers seat and hobbled as fast as he could into the burger joint.

Several of the customers jumped as the doors slammed open, knocking the little bell from its little string above the entrance. And after a few minutes of confusion, they must have reasoned that it was just a violent gust of wind, and went back to their heart-attacks on buns.
The cashier had just placed a tray of freshly made food on the counter and was about to call out to the consumer when one of the veggie burgers floated up into the air, stripped itself of its wrapper, and was suddenly devoured by what the cashier could only recognize as a ghost.
She began screaming wildly and flailing her arms, and many of her coworkers rushed to her aid, only to stare bewildered at the spectacle.

Brady quickly finished off the tray and leaped over the counter. His hunger was insatiable, and he needed more. He couldn't stand it anymore, he didn't care if he turned into the fattest invisible man alive, he wanted the hunger to go the hell away. And all this movement was so exhausting, it's as if he was using all the energy from the food just to go out and get more. It was an endless cycle.

There were a couple halfway prepared orders that he inhaled, then he continued on to the fresh made basket of piping hot chicken strips, then the fries, then the burgers. He even went so far as to eat the buns plain. And finally, he was just stuffed too full to possibly eat anymore.
As he fought the urge to curl up on the floor and nap, he made his way out to his truck, the entire restaurant behind him in an uproar about what had just happened.

-continued-

[Brady]

He felt horrible. He basically just stole hundreds of dollars worth of food. But he didn't feel as horrible as he did tired. He could barely keep his eyes open long enough to get himself back to his apartment.

"It's not my fault..." He defended, nearly in tears again. "I was gonna starve to death.. I'll pay you back. I promise I'll pay it back when I figure out how to fix this." His promises went unheard obviously, but it made him better to say it aloud. he vowed to go straighten the situation out when he felt better. They would just have to understand. They just had to.

He made it home, not even bothering to shut the doors on his vehicle. He had to get inside before he passed out. No one would know if he just passed out naked on the lawn, but he would. Even if he couldn't be seen, it was just immoral.
He stumbled in, managed to slip on a pair of shorts, and plopped onto the couch, asleep within seconds.

[Brady]

8/10/12
5:02 pm[/color]

Brady's eyes opened slowly, surveying his surroundings. His stomach gurgled, as usual. He gritted his teeth as the usual stab of pain ensued.
He was on the floor of his apartment, the ugly puce colored shag carpeting had created a mold around his body, and even as he removed himself from the spot, it still looked as if the invisible man were laying there, minus the pair of sweatpants.
It had been a few more resoundingly calmer days, thanks to a mysterious call from a mysterious 42836 number, he was now a little more informed about his condition. And thanks to a good childhood friend wiring him some money with no questions asked, he'd been able to keep from raiding any more fast food joints.

He'd discovered that a diet of protein shakes and high protein foods helped him stay full longer. Of course, he'd already known this before, it just hadn't come to mind until the automated voice over the phone had mentioned it. It could be said that he legitimately face-palmed.
Thank God all the fatty food he'd eaten previously hadn't given him a medical condition.

He blended up a shake, ignoring the painful prodding from his stomach. Lord, it was almost like trying to feed a hungry child, it wouldn't leave him alone long enough to make the food.
He downed the entire pitcher, getting one hell of a brain freeze in the process, but successfully silencing his stomach.
Brady didn't actually know if his lack of energy had gotten better, or if he'd just learned to cope with it better. Either way though, he certainly felt like he had at least minute control over his life again.

-continued-

[Brady]

He decided to skip working out, that was what had caused him to pass out on the floor yesterday, after all. It just took too much energy, and as the mysterious caller had stated, he needed to be cautious of his energy use.

Trying to think of some sort of activity that wouldn't send him spiraling into unconsciousness, he rubbed his chin, and had an incredibly unfortunate realization.
He needed to shave.
Though he couldn't see the stubble, his face felt like sandpaper.
"Oh man. That's not even fair..." How was he supposed to shave what he couldn't see? The shaving cream would certainly help, but what if he started bleeding? Would he be able to see it? Probably not, why would it suddenly become visible just because it's outside his body?
He groaned as he made his way to the bathroom. This was not going to be a fun experience.

((Blarg, insert comical description of him shaving here))

He looked into the mirror for no reason in particular, thinking deeply about his next move. He didn't really need hair at all did he? It's not like he'd be competing in any beauty contests in the near future. The only thing that held him back was just the simple fact that he'd always been proud of his looks. He liked being healthy and looking good, it made him feel good. Of course that had been taken away, it only made sense.
His mother must be haunting him.

He sighed, and picked up the buzzer, then put it back down. He needed something to make his hair visible, just long enough for him to cut it off... anything wet would clog up the blades, so shaving cream wouldn't work, shampoo wouldn't work, he didn't have any hairdye...
Aha! He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and came back with a handful of flour. That would work... wouldn't it?

-continued-

[Brady]

He threw it onto his head and rubbed it around, then looked into the mirror.
Success, it wasn't perfect, but at least he could see what he was working with.

So, he grabbed the clippers and flipped on the switch. It buzzed ominously, and he swallowed audibly as he put them to his scalp.
To his great discontent, he found himself tearing up as he felt his hair tickling his cheeks as it fell down onto his shoulders and down the length of his body onto the floor. As if he didn't have enough mental issues to overcome, now he was frikin transparent.

When his head consisted completely of peach fuzz, he hopped into the shower for a few minutes, and by the time he got out, his stomach was growling again, and he felt ready for a nap. So he made himself another shake, which should give him about an hour and a half to take a nap.
He sighed again as he flopped down onto his bed, making a mental list of what to do when he got up.
First things first, he needed some kind of outfit that didn't leave any invisible skin showing, sure, people might think he was a weirdo for it, but at least they wouldn't know he was in visible.
He'd rather they think he was a weird human than a mutant freak. And he'd already made up his mind to not go running around naked unless the situation was dire. At least not until he could find a pair of invisible underwear at the very least.

-continued probably-

[Brady]

A quick ransack through his closet led him to discover an old jumpsuit from when he worked part-time as a mechanic. That job hadn't lasted long. You'd think growing up with a single mother who's constantly calling him a 'whiny little girl' would inspire him to go do more manly things such as learning to fix cars, but it just didn't work out that way.
Instead, he usually ended up in his room playing with imaginary toys, since he wasn't allowed to have real ones. After all, big boys didn't need toys.

Another investigation of a few boxes he had in storage revealed a pair of shiny boots and matching gloves he purchased to go along with a Halloween costume he never finished. It was almost creepy that he had all this, it went together so well. Almost like he'd subconsciously prepared...
Hah, of course not. It was just coincidence. Brady Williams was not a man of luck.

As far as headwear though, all he had was hats. So, he had no choice but to venture out, headless, into the public to find one. After all, New Yorkers weren't known for being particularly vigilant, they probably wouldn't notice his missing appendage, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't care.

[Brady]

Brady had lied. He'd lied so hard to himself.
Everyone seemed the opposite of Uncaring. A few people, mainly women, even shrieked and ran away, dragging their 'dangerously' curious children with them.
He walked faster, there had to be some kind of halloween shop or something around here, he just needed a mask that would cover his head and still let him breathe, something cloth preferably. Though for some reason when he thought about that he couldn't seem to get the image of a scarecrow out of his head. Yea.. that would totally stop people from panicking.

Well, the majority was just giving him grotesque looks, of all different varieties. He assumed that some people didn't realize that his head was actually invisible, and just thought it was some kind of trick. Apparently these few people didn't have a television set, seeing as the news of 'gifteds' popping up everywhere was on nearly every channel every hour on the hour these days.

He distracted himself in the humor of the situation. Normally in circumstances like this, he'd silently wish to himself to turn invisible.
Get it? Hardyhar.

Fifteen minutes passed by, and boy did they pass slowly. He thanked the stars that his body was slowly getting used to the change in energy fluctuation. Those first few days had been the worst days of his life, and as melodramatic as he was, he'd had a pretty mentally tortured life.
He'd originally considered taking his truck, but that clunky old piece of metal, as much as he loved it, would just attract more attention. And a cab driver would ask too many questions, so, he was stuck with his feet.
And Jesus Christ were these boots uncomfortable, brand new and stiff. He would have invisible blisters for sure. Why didn't he just wear normal clothes?
"Well that's obvious Brady, Cause then I wouldn't look like a headless badass."
He laughed out loud at his inner banter, causing a teen passerby to tear her eyes away from her phone and do a double-take.

[Brady]

It was then, after looking behind him to watch her confused expression, that something caught his eye. He'd passed it without even noticing it.
He whirled around and sprinted back and through the doors, finding himself in an old pawn shop. Some geezer behind the counter looked up from a collections of coins long enough to grunt Brady out a Welcome, and went back to his business.
The invisible man didn't mind, instead he went to the display window and grabbed the mannequin head he'd seen, the one with the cloth mask on it.

That was perfect! He took it off the fake head and put it over his own, He could see perfectly, at a 180 degree angle, and yet...
He took it off and looked, there weren't even any eye holes. It was just a plain white mask that looked as if someone had tossed a glob of black ink at.
"What kind of magic is this?"
The man at the counter looked up at the item he was holding, and grunted, turning his focus back town to those precious coins as he spoke. "That there's some kinda one-way mask. Like those mirrors they got? You can see them, they can't see you. It's 850$."
Brady nearly choked on air, He didn't have that kind of money! ... But the man wasn't even looking at him, he could stuff the thing in his pocket so easily.
No! You already owe thousands of dollars to some burger joint, don't add any more on there!
"Psh, like it'll make a difference..." He muttered. The old man looked up again for a brief moment. "Wuzzat?"
"I said.. Where'd you get something like this?"

The elderly vendor looked at him as if he'd never seen anyone stupider, not even acknowledging the fact that he had no head. "This is a pawn shop, someone brought it in and pawned it. Didn't come back for it." He paused, staring at the spot where Brady's eyes should be. "Looks like you could really use it eh? 700$ and it's yours."

[Brady]

Brady looked down at the mask, tracing his finger over the black splotch. "I'll give you 200."
The geezer chuckled, "650."
"300."
"...Five and it's yours. I won't go no lower."

Brady remained silent, 500 bucks for a frikin mask? This was ridiculous. He didn't even know if his condition was permanent. There was no way in hell anyone else on the planet would need it so bad for him to get his money back on it.
"300 is all the money I have.... And I really want this mask." The man grinned darkly and chuckled. "Sorry. I ain't goin' that low."
Brady's invisible eyes narrowed, "Well, here's the deal. I'm taking this with me when I leave. If you haven't noticed, I'm invisible. So I can either steal it, you can get nothing for it, call the cops, and they'll never find me. Or you can let me have it for 300$. Your choice."

The man grinned at Brady for a good 3 minutes before laughing. Then he reached under the counter and pulled out a shotgun, cocked it, and aimed it right at Brady. "Don't matter where I hit'cha, so long as it hit's ya, you're done for." He waved the shotgun toward the door. "Now git out."
Brady, without the man even noticing, had shoved the mask into his back pocket and turned and put the mannequin head back down. "Alright alright. I was just messing around. I'm leaving." He raised his hands up to show he meant no harm, and sidestepped out the door, taking off like a bolt of lightning as soon as it swung shut behind him.