The faded white numbers on the old, pre-digital alarm clock rolled upwards, changing from '7:59' to '8:00' with a muffled 'click'...
...which was immediately drowned out by the blare of the radio snapping into life, the voice of KWBR's disgustingly cheerful morning DeeJay announcing that it was 'Another gorgeous day in the City of Angels!'.
Groaning, Jim rolled over, accompanied by the squeeks and moans of his (unfortunatly) otherwise empty bed. Slapping the alarm off angrily, the vaguley handsome, athletic young man sat up and ran his hands through his sleep-mussed mane of tawny blond hair.
"Another morning alone..." Jim sighed, looking down at his empty bed. Rising from the rumpled surface, he stumbled to the kitchen of his small beach-front bungalow and zapped a cup of coffee, which helped him wake up. Dressed only in a pair of white boxer breifs that didn't do anything flattering for his slightly-smaller-then-average endowment, he padded out to the front door to grab his morning paper before spending another 'busy' day tanning his toned body and babe-hunting. The way he figured it, he had another month - at most - before the money he'd inherited was gone, and he'd have to get back to something like a real life.
Opening the door, Jim bent down - and was surprised to find that his morining edition was half-hidden by a good-sized package wrapped in plain brown paper. Blinking, Jim picked up the package and the paper, carrying them back to the kitchen. refilling his mug with 'fresh' coffe, he sat down and looked at the package.
It was adressed to 'R. Lubbock'.
The address was correct, though, so Jim figured it was for the previous owner of the house, who Jim had never met. Jim didn't have a forwarding address, and there was no return address on the package. Shrugging, Jim decided that whatever it was, it was his now.
Just before he opened it, Jim noticed that, while there was no return address, there was a company name stamped on the side of the box, reading...
Mon Dec 20 01:06:31 1999