Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (1)

Pale morning light peaked through Marcus' bedroom window. He lay in bed snoring soundly, deep in sleep. The 'old fashion' analog alarm clock urgently swung it's pendulum against it's tinny bells, a half second out of time with the chimes and beeps of his cellphone ringtone. He dreamed on oblivious to the cacophony surrounding him. Though, his third shift neighbor above him, was not as deaf to the sounds of morning as Marcus. The unseen neighbor began to stomp loudly on his floor, shaking Marcus' ceiling fan; determined to succeed where the alarm clock and phone had failed.  Marcus heard this distant thumping beyond his dreams and followed it to the waking world, eyes slowly coming open. He craned his head to find the blasted banshee of an alarm clock. Spotting it through dawn blind squinted eyes, he knocked it from the bedside table with a (sleep chemical)heavy hand. The endless ringing finally quieted, the fed up neighbor's thunderous soon followed. All that remained to break the silence were the soft melodious bells tolling from his cellphone. Harbingers of a furious message.  
Marcus glanced through the increasingly angry texts from Dr. P. the pharmacy manager. He couldn't be bothered to move, no matter how angry Dr. P. was, Marcus knew he would understand. Though he did feel bad about not calling earlier to say he wouldn't be coming in for the rest of the week. He conjured up enough energy to dial back Dr. P. The phone rang once, before connecting to the angry man that signed Marcus' pay checks.  
"You are an hour and a half late, Marc! I'm up to my eyebrows in refills and embarrassing questions!"
Marcus chuckled, knowing full well what I busy morning alone in the pharmacy felt like.
"I'm really sorry, Dr. P, I should have called much sooner.." Marcus began.
"Oh, you don't say?" interrupted Dr. P, but Marcus chose to ignore this sarcastic quip. He didn't feel much like verbally sparring with his mentor today.
"But I was exhausted from watching Shelly spontaneously combust yesterday afternoon." he continued, "So I'll probably be out the rest of the week."
Marcus expected shock and condolences and to give some, seeing as Shelly was Dr. P's niece. In fact, he was quite surprised the Pharmacy was open at all today. Marcus really felt bad that no one had told Shelly's favorite Uncle of her untimely demise and that he had to be the bearer of bad news.
"Who's Shelly?" Dr. P inquired.  
Marcus pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it in disbelief.
What kind of sick joke is this old coot up to? Marcus thought.
He replaced the phone to his ear and inhaled deeply.
"Dr. P, you of all people know who Shelly is. I know it's extremely difficult to accept and I wish I didn't have to do this over the phone, but Shelly and I were sitting at Walt's Malt-Stop yesterday and she just…" Marcus couldn't bring himself to go on. He didn't know how to explain such an absurd situation. He opened his mouth to continue as best he could when he was cut off by a loud guffaw of laughter. Marcus was started a bit by the odd reaction from Dr. P.
"Alright, I get it. I was young once, you stayed up too late with a girl, slept through your alarm and now you're desperately trying to convince me of a ridiculous story so you won't get in trouble. I don't need it, I just need you in here and working. Hurry up or they will be trouble." Dr. P quickly disconnected his end of the line, leaving Marcus pissed off and even more confused. He shook his head.
It's gotta be the shock. He didn't know how to take the news. I fainted, he laughed. To each their own way of dealing with tragedy.  
He tossed his phone on to the bedside table and let his head fall back to the pillow, closing his eyes.
In only a few seconds he was back to snoring loudly, lost to the haunted dreamscape of his subconscious.