the best thing about his job, other than the fact that he actually got paid to tell dumb jokes and run his mouth in front of people who were willingly listening to him, was the fact that richie mostly worked evenings. his working hours ranged from anywhere between six and eleven pm, which meant that richie more often than not had his days free. this day in particular richie was dedicating his free hours to his skateboard, a take away coffee mug in his hand because the only thing he’d actually managed to learn in college was that caffeine was the key to being a functioning human being, as he rolled down the streets of la. however, for about five seconds, richie’s attention was left adrift by a horrible patterned shirt in a shop window, and he wasn’t brought back until there was a loud noise of a car honking at him, and then richie’s face collided with the ground, coffee spilling out over the asphalt in front of him. “ouch, fuck?” he called out, as he sat up and rubbed a hand over his bleeding nose, watching as the car drove straight off down the road. “what the fuck, man!?” he yelled after the car because yes, richie, he can definitely hear you. “my fucking grandma drives better than you and she’s been dead for ten years!”