It should be illegal to be forced to go to work during inclement weather. This includes cold, ice, snow, hail, wind. And even the kind of blazing sun that makes some people tout how “nice” it is outside. In short, there should really only be about a handful of days out of the year that a person ought to be invisibly pried out of their bed to brave the elements for the sake of “making money.” Not that anyone ever gets to hold on to it for very long once it’s made, what with a “piece of the pie” going to pretty much everyone except the actual worker. Joey DeVrie was one such worker—in case his first name wasn’t an indication. In fact, he deliberately chose “Joey” as his diminutive of Joseph in lieu of “Joe.” He already felt average enough as it was without being called that name.

And one of the things he supposed made him most average of all was his inability to escape the rat race. This in addition to the fact that, like most people, Joey thought his life would turn out differently. That he was “special” or something. Special enough to somehow avoid convention once he put enough time and hard work in. Which he thought he did. But lo and behold, it wasn’t enough. After all, this wasn’t the heyday of baby boomer youth anymore. Things didn’t just “come easily.” Not even a corporate job, which used to be how many a baby boomer made their mint, managed to support a family and buy a house. Days that seem so long gone now. Even so, Joey was able to get one of the last corporate jobs. It just didn’t support much other than his drinking habit. Not to mention his general rage that only flared up all the more during the cold winter months, which he hardly found “cozy.” Though perhaps he would have if he were allowed to stay in bed. That would be the civilized thing to “allow,” after all. But no, Capitalism wouldn’t have it. Instead chose to go quite literally against Nature by making people pretend to continue to function during the darkest, most frigid months of the year. Even though Humankind’s ascendants from way back when, despite the accusations of being “primitive,” were actually much more intelligent. They had the good sense to hole up in caves during the winter, scarcely emerging. At least, that’s what certain anthropological evidence suggests.

In short, certain predecessors to Homo sapiens hibernated like bears. “Of course they did. It was before the invention of capitalism!” Tony shouted over the general cacophony at the bar where Joey had agreed to meet him after work. Because Joey had never been one to turn down anybody’s offer to meet for a drink. That was one thing that no amount of bad weather could keep him from. Besides, he wanted to complain to someone about “the way it is.” “The system we’re all stuck in,” he kept saying to Tony, who was mostly more interested in eye-fucking a woman at the other end of the bar who clearly had no idea he was even alive. Joey didn’t much care if he was really listening anyway. It was all about having a “sounding board” nowadays, just some faintly attentive presence that nodded at the appropriate moments of your monologue so that you didn’t feel totally alone on this godforsaken planet. Of course, there were some people who found that lack of a genuine response to evoke an even greater sense of loneliness. At one point in his life, Joey had been such a person, but he learned to move beyond it. Just one of many “push it aside” survival tactics he learned to adopt as a means to survive in this society rather than getting bulldozed by it.

So he continued his “rant,” knowing full well that Tony was pretty much entirely tuned out. But his body was there, and that was something, wasn’t it? He even provided an “intellectual” interjection that countered Joey’s argument in favor of returning to hibernation as their ancient ancestors did. “What? And sacrifice nutrition, vitamin D and sex? No thank you.” Joey took another swig of his “cheap” beer in response. Cheap in this city being eight dollars for a PBR. And as he thought to himself that this wasn’t “life,” it was hell, he grudgingly ordered another, racking up his bar tab to twenty-four dollars despite having only ordered three drinks. Maybe if he lived in some bumpkin town, he could have been blackout drunk by now on twenty-four dollars, which is what he was starting to wish to be as Tony proceeded to give some of his own commentary, this time on another woman he clocked as she walked into the bar, telling Joey, “Speaking of hibernating, looks like this girl’s been storing up for winter with that body. Eh?”

Joey knew that the “eh?” added to the end of the sentence was meant to “include” him in the conversation. In truth, it was designed to make Joey say something equally as douchey to express his agreement about how this woman was “rotund” but that it wouldn’t stop him from fucking her either if given the choice. That’s the “sanction” that Tony was looking for here, but Joey was in no mood to play the role of “bro” tonight. Not that he was ever in that frame of mind, but especially not now. His mood was too foul, his resentment too great. He was overcome with an overwhelming desire to be at home in bed. And then he remembered his “home” was a shared apartment with two other roommates who had a patent aversion to cleanliness, so that every time he walked in, there was a distinct odor of general decay that made it almost as much of a challenge to “hibernate” as the requirement to go to work every day.

The vision of this sty that he way overpaid for was how Joey ended up staying and staying at the bar, even long after Tony had taken the “fat” girl home. “That’s how I stay warm, okay? By fucking. So fuck that hibernating shit.” But no, Joey didn’t want it “fucked”—he wanted it to make a comeback. Maybe that’s how and why, in his state of drunkenness, he found himself fashioning a “hut,” of sorts, in the alleyway next door to the bar after he was kicked out. Assembling it out of a combination of cardboard and snow, it seemed as if, in all his shit-faced logic, he was trying to create a cave to fall asleep in. “For the rest of winter,” he kept muttering to himself, along with the recitation of certain facts about the phenomenon. Like how there are some bears who hibernate for seven months out of the year. As it should be, Joey thought, while slowly losing consciousness. As it should be.