A Vespertilian's Day Like Any Other- this is, in fact, a bit exaggerated... But only a bit.
"This is Radio Maryja - a Hard Rock Station!", roared radio alarm clock standing on a shelf just next to Satanislav's bed, heavy metal tune waking Satanislav form his sleep. He slowly got up, taking a short glance of his wife. "One day I'll kill the bitch", he remarked just like he did any other morning, unaware of the fact that his wife thought just the same about her husband. He hated his job, his life, his wife - generally almost everything. He hated waking up in time to go to work, taking short shower, dressing up and eating sandwich with his favourite (or, rather, least hated) brand of human meat, "Volunteer's Best". Then he proceeded to one of his scarce pleasures - fixing and cleaning his own home-modified Massacrator Impaler. The radio stopped playing after being pierced by wooden stake delivered accurately by Satanislav. "Shut. Up.", he murmured through clenched teeth to the second radio he sent to Valhalla in this month, then slowly took his leave.
Fortunately, his way to workplace was quite smooth, only he had to open embrasures and pack full broadside into certain other guy, who was trying to smash him out of the road by means of his panzerbulldozer. It, however, distracted him enough for bunch of angry pedestrians to rip his car's armour with landmines placed on the asphalt. Only because of trebled driving system, of which he was very proud as he did it himself in his garage using spare parts from dishwasher, was Satanislav able to maneuver after sustaining such damage. He managed just in time to fend the pedestrians off with machinegun, as they were loading their grenade launchers. When he reached the Vespertilia Software building, he parked on the SAME. SITE. AS. EVER. Never mind the fact he had to smash another car to pieces. It was HIS. PLACE.
"Hi, Boss", Satanislav murmured when he met his superior in the office, simultaneuously imagining the scene of his impalement. Murmuring complaints, he proceeded to his job - he was recently working on a project of a new operations system. Most of the time from 8 AM to 4 PM, he spent fixing bugs hidden in fixes of earlier bugs, only when a group of anarchists tried to blow up the builting he left his workplace, instead shooting down wearing fashionable brand rags youngsters trying to incinerate him with Molotov Cocktails.
While driving home, Satanislav kept in mind what his car had suffered as he lost his focus, so he switched off radio and didn't drink anything this time. It turned out to be a good strategy, when he managed to avoid barricades set by demonstration of angry workers, being at the same time under fire from one of local gangs and answering to it.
Finally, he reached home, and, as ever, he hoped in vain for his wife to greet him with warm dinner. This time she wasn't even home, so he had to warm up some canned food in the microwave oven. This sparked an unusual idea inside his mind.
"Hello?" said Jeanne, coming back after some additional hours in work. She presumed her husband would be inside, but there was no reply to knocks at the door. Then she heard buzz of a fly somewhere in kitchen. "Weird", she thought, as rarely it was so silent in this part of the city. This unusual silence was then broken by a couple of mafia mobsters engaging in shooting under her window. She proceeded to the kitchen, expecting to discover at least some information scribbled on a Post-It with characteristic handwriting of her husband. Instead, she found him himself, lying on ground with his head ripped apart with parts of metal can. The remains microwave oven would be nigh impossible to identify if she hadn't known what to expect. In the middle of them lied the bottom of the can with what delicious "Yum Yum Chinese Canned Dinner" wasn't sprayed everywhere else inside.
"Should have done it before you, asshole", she said to the corpse, making herself a cup of tea.