Micheal sighed as he threw away his burnt toast, which somehow managed to completely miss the trash can. He glanced at his watch, which he could've sworn said 7:30 just a minute ago, and saw that it was now 8:00. He was late to work, again. He slowly limped to his bedroom and grabbed his supersuit out of the closet, which got caught on the door knob on the way down. ("How did that even happen?")
Micheal stuck his fingers inside of the hole out of curiosity and proceeded to have a muscle spasm, causing his fingers to twitch and making the hole even larger. ("Scott's gonna have a field day with this one.")
While attempting to put on his super suit, Micheal's accidentally tried to put both legs in at the same time. As he pushed himself up off the floor, he noticed that he had forgotten to clean under his bed. An old forgotten box of pizza had formed a colony of an as-of-yet unnamed species of fungus, which seemed to have invented a rather primitive language. "I'll clean that when I get back from work," Micheal thought, knowing full well it wouldn't get done.
Micheal walked over to his dresser to grab his phone, only to realize that he had forgotten to charge it last night. ("You won't even turn on? Really?") He reached behind the dresser to grab the charger that had fallen and hit his head on a smartly placed shelf. ("Where did that even come from?") As he rubbed the bruise on his head, he checked his watch again. It was now 8:30 somehow. ("The Professor's gonna kill me.") He grabbed the zipper that was on the back of his super suit and pulled it, ripping it out and almost punching himself in the face in the process. ("Not even gonna comment.")
Having left his car at the mansion last night, Micheal would have to walk. He sighed, accepted his fate and rushed out the door. He barely made it five steps outside before stepping in a puddle. ("Oh, come on. I just washed this.") Micheal was mad now, he would have to walk with wet socks. There could be no greater torture. He looked up to the sky and silently screamed "Why?"
Micheal kept walking. The mansion was less than a mile away, at least. Micheal was already late, so he put a little kick in his step. After five minutes of walking, he had started to feel better since nothing unlucky had happened to him. That is, until the bushes started rustling. He stopped, as curious as a little child that is presented with something they shouldn't have. Micheal's happy feelings instantly vanished when a large dog popped out of the bushes. ("I should start running. I just know it.") The dog didn't notice him at first, but suddenly seemed to have the ability to smell unluckiness. The dog looked at Micheal and took off running. Micheal did the same. The dog chased Micheal until he got to the gates of the mansion, where Micheal managed to put in the gate code and get inside before the dog could get to him. ("At least I got some exercise.")
Micheal felt relieved. He had gone through all that, but he actually managed to make it to the mansion. He strutted up to the front door and laughed at himself. ("This is the luckiest I've been all day!") When he reached for the handle and tried to open the door, he realized that the door was locked. ("Wait...") He looked up and saw a piece of paper taped to the door. He grabbed it and quickly read it. "Micheal, it's Saturday. Go home." Micheal tried to the throw the paper on the ground and got a paper cut.