All Hours: Midnight

All Hours

(Right so my little brother asked me what it was I did when I stayed up all night and didn’t get any sleep… Which was the situation I was in when I wrote this… so read, love, hate, whatever. Just tell me what you all think. Okay? So without further stuff, I present to you an annoyed comedy about the annoying things in life: All Hours.)

I could hear the storm raging outside my second story window. I hadn’t slept since Thursday, and today was Saturday. I checked the clock: 11:59, Yep today was still Saturday. I groaned and leaned forward, shoving the blanket away from my body as I got out of bed with the swift gracefulness one thinks of while imagining a rhinosauraus. I couldn’t see through the black that enveloped my space, so I plodded over to my nightstand that was conviently placed across the room from my bed to  turn on a lamp. As I was groping in the darkness, I walked straight inot something very solid that was not arms height. Graceful as I was, I tripped. Not only did I bring myself down miserably, my flailing arms managed to catch my only source to relieve the black and bring it unmercifully to the ground to join me. “Ouch.” I said quite loudly, along with another few choice words. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it and looked at the caller ID. The number was unknown. I flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Hello is this Olivia Wright?” a serious female asked. (BTW, I DIDN’T USE ANYBODY’S REAL NAME SO THAT EVERYONE REALIZES THAT THIS ISN’T REAL AND THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN TO ME. THE POINTLESS ALL NIGHTER, HOWEVER… DID.)
“Yes.” I repositioned myself so I was leaning against the nightstand, but happily away from the now broken lamp.
“This is Beth Cummins from Lee’s Summit Medical Emergency Hospital. There has been a car accident.” (OKAY SO THAT IS SOMEONE’S REAL NAME… MRS. CRAMER-CUMMINS, BUT SHE’S AN ENGLISH TEACHER, NOT A CALLER PERSON AT LS HOSPITAL. SO THERE.)
“There’s a lot of those.” Due to my lack of sleep, my voice filter was not working properly.
“Your parents are both in the Intensive Care Unit and the police would like to speak to you about the vehicle.”
I groaned loudly. It’d be so much easier if my parents were in the ICU because they were partially eaten by cannibals. Then the police wouldn’t involve me at- I glanced at the clock on my cell phone- 12:01 in the morning.
It took me fifteen minutes to get to the hospital from my house. When I got there I had a bit of trouble distinguishing the cops from the docs. (I THOUGHT THAT WAS QUITE CLEVER)
“Miss. Wright,” one of them addressed me, “We’re curious as to what to do with the car.” I stared blankly at them. “The vehicle was hardly damaged in the wreck, just neither of your parents were wearing seatbelts. The car still runs, quite decently. We just need to know where to put it.” The officer, or doctor, continued to ramble.
“Here.” I cut into his inane chatter. He nodded and walked out of the building, a small cop/doc following him. I glanced at the time. It was 12:52. This was getting ridiculous: sixty-two hours awake. I doubted I would make it much longer. But, as I curled up in the ICU waiting room chair and laid my head on my knee, my phone rang again. I pulled it out and refrained from growling aloud. It was my boyfriend. I flipped open the phone and said acidly. “What, Chris?”
“Erm, Christopher kind of tripped and now I think he might be sick. In the head, at least.” The moronic, drunk voice said into Christopher’s phone. I wanted to reach through the phone and pummel the bloody moron. I decided to be rational, get all the information before I killed the idiot.
“What do you mean, Chris tripped?” I asked acidly.
“I mean that Chris took some acid and God told him to go on a safari and look for a duck.” I suddenly recognized the moronic drunk. It was my boyfriend. Chris had a habit of slipping into third person when he was high and I wondered momentarily if my acidic tone had gotten him up even more. I shut the phone angrily and glanced at the clock on the wall: 1:02.