The Van Man awoke with pain shooting throughout his back. It was Friday and he had a performance that night. Van Man had picked up a couple of things in his time: it was never good to be drunk or high on stage. Or in pain. The adrenaline from the audience would help.
He saw the pain as a sign. Van Man had slept on the floor of his van for too long and it had taken its toll. He saw himself as a young man and back pain was for the old, out-of-shape crowd. He was thirty-four and tan.
Van Man had a six-week gig on the horizon. He was to teach lego classes at a West Hollywood Summer camp. Good pay and little pressure. Van Man was determined to not flounder that pay away. He would use it to get himself into a place.
June Gloom had been constant and he was grateful. The morning cool was a luxury he did not waste. He thought about money. The Van Man despised it, but always felt better when he had it. The back pain subsided and the ache in his mouth began again. Money would fix it.