Why me?

“Why me?”
He knew if he didn’t hurry up he was going to be late for work, but he didn’t want the blood to set in the blanket.
The blood was difficult to rinse out of the blanket.
He finally took it outside, and used a scrub brush, some powdered soap, and the garden hose. He hung the wet blanket in the tree to dry.
He double checked the bed.
The blood hadn’t soaked any further.
He tried to find his cat, Meeker, but she was nowhere to be found.
He had to hurry and leave. He hoped Meeker would be OK.
Getting to work was a pain. He had to catch the bus at Angeles Street, a 20 minute walk. He was sure he was going to miss the bus, but as he rounded the corner to Angeles Street, there was the small group of regulars still waiting for the bus.
“Dude, your pants.” Said the long haired surfer transplant from California.
“Yeah, I know.” He wanted to leave it at that.
The lower part of one of his pant legs had gotten wet in cleaning the blanket.
He reached for his wallet to pull out the money for the bus pass. He luckily had the 3 dollars, plus enough for lunch.
The bus showed up, whipping the dirt and leaves into their faces and hair. Apparently, the driver was running late.
He climbed on, putting his money in the bill acceptor, took his token, and found a seat.
His cell phone rang, and he answered it. It was his sister.
“Julie, I was in such a rush, I didn’t get a chance to call you back.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I took a shower, got out, and found blood on the bed cover.”