Increasingly bored and numerous, one of the concerns will eventually reach a boil. The result is a shouting match of many voices; one of them the loudest.
WE HAVE DEAD BATTERIES ,,FUCK!
First, I will lament that I am alone in the world. The deep cycle battery gods have forsaken me, like the rafter-cutting gods of before. I have nobody to up and read a book and trouble shoot the shit in my stead. Grudgingly, I use the energy of anxious frustration to propel me forth.
My feet are heavy bags of sand. My thin arms dangle indecisively from their sockets.
I would fall asleep standing if not for incessant prodding anger; flames fanned by the mere concept and existence of variables unknown...
DID I KILL THE HOUSE BATTERIES?
>>> How Ta Fix Yr F'kn Badderies, Kid: <<<
Step One: Check the voltage. 10.2 volts? Dead, dead, dead.
Second Step: Plug in the three-stage charger: the juice from the alternator was not enough.
Step Three: Wonder why I don't have a fucking extension cord in the fucking van.
Step Four Loko: Put down the Bud Ices, and go to Home Depot.
Step Five: With the batteries charging, ride bicycles all over New Orleans with Ian. Begin to remember that life is alright.
Step Six: Renew vow to explore stoicism.
End Note: The batteries are completely fine.