My Morning Routine

The screech of a heavy metal guitar tore through the air, a swirling swarm of wraiths ripping into my eardrums. Slowly, my eyelids cracked open. War was at hand, my friends, and battle waits for no man. At least, not for long, perhaps fifteen more minutes.

My arm awoke from its dormant state, with a cobra’s speed it slammed into the touch screen of my Motorola Atrix; snooze, my faithful companion; for there is a hard day before us, and we shall need our rest. Pillows billowed around my incredibly handsome face. It is splendid in an antihero rugged way; I am like a lumberjack/private-detective hybrid. I am glorious.

The screech is resurrected. Fifteen minutes already? Fuck.

I rise. It is the nativity of a golem. Lumbering, I lift myself from the floor. Almost there, I collapse. The pillows embrace me. They weep at my anticipated absence. They cling to me. They beseech me to stay, and within their gentle embrace I falter.

They are an opiate; they hold dominion over another world. It is a soft and beautiful world; a world where I run hand in hand with a tender object of my affection. We laugh and frolic through an endless field of lavender. We descend together gently, in slow motion, upon the endless purple blanket. A vortex of pollen, flower petals, and pure joy swirls around us, before floating elegantly into the sky.

Her head rests upon my chest as we gaze upon our cerulean ceiling; with the tip of my finger I brush a strand of dark hair from her glowing face. Her beautiful brown eyes meet mine, all the majesty of the universe seems to be held within them. I feel as though I’m floating upon a sea of bliss. She smiles playfully.

The azure sky transforms into a canvas of pastel pinks, warm oranges, and soothing blues. Twilight descends upon us. A ghostly visage of Isaac Hayes materializes to serenade us; he is accompanied by bagpipes, because bagpipes are fucking awesome.

I gently caress her neck, and then run my fingertips across her collarbone, and down her toned stomach, and through the subtle ravine formed between the hip and abdomen. That last spot, in particular, is very sexy, and oft neglected.

I nibble her earlobe, she turns her face to mine, and I feel her fingers across my neck, her thumb tucked behind my ear. She pulls me close. Our lips approach.

The screech of guitars assails me once again. Fuck you DragonForce. Fuck you phone. Fuck you day.