The Program

He parked his car in the basement garage and took the elevator up to his studio apartment. He looked at his watch. 6:17. Not bad for having sat in an horrendous traffic jam. The floor display said 12, 15, 18. It stopped on 22. He walked out and to the left, stopped at unit #2202, took out his key, unlocked the door, walked inside, and closed it behind him.
He dropped his bag, collapsed onto the couch, and hit the flashing button on his antiquated answering machine.
A robotic voice said, “One…new message.”
And then immediately began a male voice, slightly digitally distorted so that it wasn’t immediately clear who it was.
“Luther, are you back from work yet? You should pick up the phone. I know you’re in your apartment and you’re listening to me leave this stupid, boring message. You’re a jerk. If you won’t pick up for your last one, true friend, I’m sorry but I don’t want to talk to you. Anyways when you get over whatever you need getting over, call me up, we have to set the program for the evening.”
The program, Luther thought. He opened up a cabinet in the table next to the couch and took out his snuffbox. Inside were five intricately rolled joints. He lit one, and turned on his stereo, and thought about what kind of program he was in the mood for. A mellow evening? A night of crime? The typical bar scene? Crashing a party? Something completely uncharacteristic? A rave?
Halfway through his spliff, he set it down and called Rory, the aforementioned male, digitally distorted voice.
“I am thinking of a program that involves making an absolute mess that we do not have to clean up.”
Rory was intrigued. “You want to make a mess. That’s not like you.”
“I know a party that we weren’t invited to. I say we repay their snub with a diabolical scheme.”
“You’re very imaginative tonight.”
“Well, get ready, get over here, we’ll pre-party, we’ll lay out our plan, and we’ll execute ruthlessly.”
“Right on. I’ll head out in five minutes. Just have to put some things away.”
“See you later.”