The gray morning light came through Stanley's window. He rolled over and buried his head under the covers and tried to go back to sleep. He could hear the crows calling. “What useless creations.” Stanley thought. And noisy too. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. The crows were right outside Stanley's window. They had found a dead squirrel on the roof, newly uncovered by the thawing snow. A big crow pecked at the squirrel's eyes. Stanley pulled down the shade and lit a cigarette. The clock said it was time to go to work but today was Saturday. Clocks don't know what day it is, but Stanley knew. It was his day off. He went into the bathroom and striped naked. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was getting soft. The muscle tone was going. He felt like he was on a slippery hill sliding toward death. Stanley turned on the shower and let it get hot. Then he stepped in and let the hot water run down his back. He thought about all the showers he had taken in his life. How many bars of soap, how many gallons of water. He soaped and rinsed off. Then he shampooed his hair, rinsed. He got out of the shower and he could no longer see himself in the steamy mirror. He toweled off and put on his bathrobe.
The newspaper was on the front porch. Stanley opened the door and picked it up. It was wet. Stanley looked up and down the street for the god dammed paper boy but he was nowhere to be seen. He took the wet paper into the kitchen and gently spread it out on the kitchen table to dry. “God dam paper boy.” Stanley thought as he tried to read the transparent paper. He could almost read both sides of the paper at once, but it was toohard with his aging eyes to read just one side. He gave up and made some coffee. While the coffee was brewing, Stanley got dressed and combed his hair. Even his hair was getting old. “Maybe a haircut would make me feel better,” he thought. He turned his head so he could see the back of his neck in the mirror. Long gray hair curled up around his collar. “Yes, a haircut would help.” The coffee was finished brewing by now so he poured himself a cup and had it with cream and three sugars. Just the way he always drank it.
The barber shop was crowded. Stanley took a seat and picked up a magazine. There was a sex quiz on page seven. Stanley read the quiz and checked off the multiple choice answers. He checked his score to find out that, yes, he knew how to please a woman. “Shit,” Stanley thought, “I haven't had sex in ten years. I don't even know if the stick even works anymore.” Finally, the barber called him to the chair. Stanley had been going to the same barber for twenty seven years. The god dam barber was even older than Stanley. “How's it hangin Stanley?” the barber asked. “That's all it does, Joe. It just hangs there.” A couple of young guys waiting for haircuts laughed at Stanley's joke. Then Joe finished the haircut and held the mirror for Stanley. The back of the neck no longer had long curls of gray hair over the collar. “Very nice.” Stanley said. He paid and left a five dollar tip. “What happened, Stanley, you win the lottery?” Said Joe. “No,” said Stanley, “I figure if I give you enough money, you'll retire and they'll hire a real barber around here.” The young boys laughed again. Stanley winked at the boys and left the shop. He drove home with the window down, even though it was still quite chilly out. He parked his car in the garage and hit the button on his visor and watched the door come down behind him. The radio was playing and old Benny Goodman tune, so Stanley hit the button on the side of his chair felt the back of the seat recline. He loved Benny Goodman. It was a long song and by the time it was over, the garage was filling with exhaust. Stanley had forgotten to shut off the motor. He watched as the clouds of exhaust began to turn the air white. “Hmm,” thought Stanley, “My face feels like it has pins in it. He lifted his hand to touch his face. His arm felt heavy. “I'm dying.” he thought. Then he reached up and hit the button on the visor. The garage door opened and Stanley put the car in reverse and backed out. His hands felt like they were asleep as he clutched the wheel. He put the car in reverse and backed slowly out of the garage but he was just a bit off. He caught his rear view mirror on the way out and tore it off. The fresh air flooded in through his open window and Stanley felt himself coming back. “It would be a good way to go,” thought Stanley. “But not on my day off.”