\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1250135-Waking-up-is-overrated
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: 13+ · Other · Comedy · #1250135
Waking up and not wanting to get up is universal in my mind.

         Beep. Beep. Beep.
         “What the hell?” Seven o’ clock in the morning always startled me, however often it happened. “I‘m still asleep,” I grunted, hoping the alarm had made a mistake. It kept buzzing away, happy at my discomfort. I burrowed deeper into my bed, searching to escape from reality a bit more. The alarm gave chase and found me down there. I frantically ploughed deeper, swimming through the abundant covers. A bit too deep; my head broke into a cold breeze on the other side. I’d gone too far, consciousness tried to sneak into my head along with the mornings icy grasp. The morning wouldn’t beat me that easily though. I tried to turn around and get back to the warm safe haven in the center of the bed. Dragging myself along on my hands and knees I harvested blankets to bury my face. They sloughed off of the bed in all directions as they resisted the harvest, but eventually a pleasant mound began to form.
         A sliver of light still managed to penetrate my defenses, so I sent my feet out hunting for the last skulking blanket. They hit something hard, it didn’t feel like a blanket. I prodded it with my big toe a couple of times; it felt like it might be alive. I continued the tour of my foot as it scoped out this new and possibly dangerous creature. It seemed to be some sort of land porpoise that had managed to get into my bed. It’s skin had a very rubbery feel to it and each prod sank a few inches into it’s bulk.  All of a sudden I felt the vibrations of suppressed and silent laughter. The porpoise was laughing at me? In my own bed? The nerve.
         “Honey, what are you doing?” It can talk? Who was this person? I pretended to be asleep, maybe this someone had made a mistake, like that demonic alarm clock. I withdrew my foot and curled tighter.
         “Dear? Are you alright? Where did my covers go? Are you awake? Hello?” This person was even more persistent than the alarm. I started to scoot away from the voice. My turban of blankets around my face blocked vision, but it also obscured my retreat as well. Hopefully all that would be visible of me was a squirming mass of blankets, which would make any type of effective strike impossible. I paused to catch my breath. I dare not back up anymore, even my scattered mind realized that there had to be an edge of this bed somewhere. Retreat was not an option anymore.
         “Watcha doing?” Giggled the voice. I kept retreating. A few more inches gave way before the bed maliciously vanished from beneath me. I made what was probably a spectacular flip, my blanket-turban prevented me from telling exactly, and landed dexterously on my left foot. My right foot, left out of the action, contented itself with flailing all the way down.. Somewhere in my one yard plummet my flailing foot must have met up with the night stand. An ominous creaking mixed with my yelps of pain. Glancing up I saw the night stand losing its balance in my direction. I gave a much smaller yelp as it toppled toward my head. The nightstand, a healthy dose of pain and an even larger dose of consciousness all hit me in the face simultaneously.
         “Ahh! Son of a -” I grumbled. The usual questions about who I am and what day it is, if I’m late for work or if I even have a job filtered through my mind as I chased the residue of dreams from my distorted vision. “Why am I on the floor?” I whimpered. I realized it was silent on the bed. I lifted my head enough to peer at my wife and got caught full in the face by a wave of giggles. “Oh just shut it please.” I stretched myself out upon the sparsely carpeted floor and groaned.
         I lifted my hand to my head let a small trickle of blood ooze through my fingers. I watched it curiously for a second before I realized that it what it was. “I’m bleeding! Oh god I’m bleeding!” I pressed both my hands over my forehead to try and staunch the few drops of blood oozing from my head.
         Jessy, my wife, peered over the bed to stare at me. “It’s not that bad. Serves you right for thrashing around the bed like a mad man. What on earth were you up to dear?”
         “Not that bad!? Did you miss the blood? Blood!” I removed my hand to show the glistening red drop that had managed to squeeze out. “I’ve gotta lie down for a bit, I’m getting woozy.”
         I tried to block out her laughter as I settled myself back in bed. A double handful of tissues dried up the little stream quickly, but that doesn’t mean I have to get out of bed. Normally I would be quickly decapitated if I go to work late, but if I enter with a beaming red scar on my head they would be much more tolerant. I didn’t especially want to go to work today anyway. I knew that as soon as I entered that door I would have to give a presentation on my dying project to the CEO. Some severe problems had come up with our project, it’s biggest one being around four hundred pounds and named Ted the section asshole. I was the manager of the group so I would have to be the one to give the bad news to our CEO. The man had an infamous reputation for having never heard the expression ‘don’t shoot the messenger’.
         The longer I could put off going to work the better.                    
         
                                                 *          *          *
         
                   Three hours later I would have given anything to be back in bed. It’s amazing how in such a short time I could go from snuggled comfortably in my bed to being stranded in the middle of a raging storm. I was utterly alone, all of my friends had long since abandoned me to the ruthless elements. Well, maybe there was only one element, but believe me, that was more than enough. This particular element was named Arnold and happened to be the boss. My face was already drenched and I felt like my legs were about to give way to his storm. It felt like I had already enduring an eternity of this.
         I staggered back a few paces and moped my face from perspiration and his spittle.
         “And I guess trying to ruin my company wasn’t enough! I gave you a well paying respectable job and you repay me by squandering my money and gutting a crucial project? Are you insane or just stupid?” For a little man he could sure raise his voice.
         I tried to stabilize myself enough for a comeback against the volatile little man but he kept going.
         “And to think I trusted you!” He spat the last word into my eye as he raged on. “You told me how you would serve my company loyally, but you…you….” His face contorted and disfigured as he searched for the right words. I tried to edge my defense in before he erupted again.
         “Sir, if you will listen to me for a sec -,” I peeped, but the storm drowned out my protests.
         “You think this is funny don’t you?” He asked this quietly. Maybe the weather had abated a bit. I tried again.
         “Sir, I find nothing about this situation even the least bit -”. Or maybe it was just the eye of the storm.
         “Get out of my sight you bastard! I never want to see you again! Mark my words, you’ll get find out what’s funny in the end. You’ll get what’s coming to you alright. Get the hell out of here!” It was an order that I was only too happy to follow. Bobbing my head respectfully I made a dash for the large wooden door at the end of his office. Flinging it open I sprinted down the hallway, only vaguely aware of the crowd that had gathered at the windows to watch the exchange. I had survived an entire hour of that pelting weather so it wasn’t surprising that others had noticed it too.
I kept running flat out until I got to my car. It took four tries to convince my trembling hand to force the key into the slot, but once the car started it shot from the parking lot like a bullet. Flooring the peddle I lurched the car onto the street, swerving between a truck and a passing van as I went. Going through town might be difficult at sixty miles an hour, but I wasn’t about to slow down for anyone. Every  bump in the road sent my car soaring, every turn sent me spinning. Blood coursing through my veins I tried to get a hold of myself.  Stoplights glared at me accusingly and remorsefully as I passed them by. Even the green lights looked a little disturbed by my apparent enthusiasm.
         Was it my fault that the project collapsed? Of course not! It was that bastard Ted who couldn’t move his own bulk fast enough to do his job, or whatever his excuse was.
         My body didn’t listen to anything that my mind tried to tell it though. Despite myself I still shook from the conflict, every twitch sending the car into another dangerous swerve. If I kept driving like this then it would only be a matter of time before I killed myself and saved my boss the trouble anyway. A dumbfounded and gaping woman in the crosswalk compounded this belief. I guess it’s unsettling to see a car bearing down at you, flying at full speed before lurching to a stop mere feet away. She screamed and ran to the other side of the street.
         Breath deeply, I told myself. Cool down. If I let the pressure get to me I’ll be a wreck, literally. When the light turned green I nosed the car slowly to the side of the road and pulled a few feet off onto the shoulder. I put the car into park and tried to calm down. Breath in, breath out. No need to panic.
© Copyright 2007 Zarathustra (archeens at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1250135-Waking-up-is-overrated