(no subject)
Yet another addition to my ongoing portfolio. I guess that's a good word for it.
So Vivid I Missed It
My hand hits the wall with a hard thud. It hurts, but not so bad as to say anything. I let it fall back onto my face, use it to rub my eyes. I sit up a little bit, running my hand through my hair. It’s thick, and I haven’t take a shower in two days. I yawn real big, so big that a tear escapes from my right eye.
I stare down at the comforter. It’s dulled, gotten a bit old over the years. You can hardly tell where it’s not supposed to be white anymore. There’s so many rips in the damn thing you’d think it came that way. I let my head fall back and land on my pillows. I sigh.
I look over at the clock. It’s 1:15. In the afternoon. I slept a lot longer than I intended. Then again, when you don’t plan on doing anything, is there really a reason to get up? I just lay there, letting my hands rest on my forehead and along my left side. I just kind of grumble, then get up.
I walk over to the jeans straddled over the chair in front of my computer. I pick them up, put them on, and let out another huge yawn. The tear comes out the left eye this time. It gets caught on my nostril and defies gravity to go up into my nostril. I have to flick at it for a second to get reacquainted with everything. I shake my head.
I look around for my shirt. I finally see it on my couch. I take two steps over to it and pick it up. It smells bad. Come to think of it, so do the jeans. I turn around and see a bottle of Febreze on my dresser. I take two steps back towards it, and pick it up, and spray the shirt twice, once on the front and once on the back. I do the same with the jeans, but without taking them off.
I put the shirt on after taking a seat in my computer chair. I click on the monitor to see that everything is still working. That’s nice. I start to click around, open my web browser, and go and check my e-mail. Nothing good. Again. Kind of used to that at this point.
I yawn again. Lord, I slept for twelve hours, you’d think I’d be rested. But apparently you’d be wrong. My stomach makes a wonderful gurgling sound. I pat it, then stand up and start for the door. I trip on my shoes and fall face first onto my bed. I push up, and turn to the door. That wasn’t something that happens everyday.
I open the door and look left. My parent’s bedroom door is still shut, which isn’t like them at all. I look left, and see that my sister’s room too, is closed. I thought I was the only one who slept this late. I shrug. Everyone’s lazy from time to time I suppose.
I walk down the hall, avoiding the lump of fat on the floor that is my dog. She looks up at me as I pass by, a look of hope in her eyes. I smile at her. She gets up and starts to walk alongside me. Well, maybe not so much walk as waddle, but it’s cute when she does it.
I make my way through the den, eventually finding my way into the kitchen. The tile feels good on my feet. The dog starts to walk small circles around me. She makes some noises, and eventually I cave. I go into the pantry, and crouch down to the very bottom shelf, and pick up her treats. I throw one to her, and she clenches it in her teeth then disappears into the laundry room.
I make a nice burp loud enough to be heard back in my room, but since no one is up, who’s it going to hurt? I open the fridge. My eyes dart all about, settling on the drawer where we keep the lunchmeat. I pull out a package of turkey and a package of swiss cheese. I place them on the counter, then go back in and grab the mustard and mayonnaise. This is going to be good.
I close the fridge, then reach on top of it to grab a paper plate. I place it on the counter, then walk to the opposite end and grab the bread. With a simple, almost elegant motion, I remove the twist tie. Picking out two fine pieces of bread, I place them on the plate and close the bread, throwing it back towards it’s place.
Then it happens. An urge I can’t fight at all. I start to dance. It starts slow, a little dropping of the shoulders. It gets stronger and stronger, till eventually I’m trying my best to do John Travolta’s routine from Saturday Night Fever. I do this for about a minute, then finally decide that maybe I should just make my sandwich. So I do.
I put everything away, and take a bite of my newly completed masterpiece. It’s good. It’s SO good. The flavors melt together in my mouth, a medley of wonder and joy. I smile. Not just any smile, but a big Kool-Aid smile. A smile that would make even the sourest of sour pusses smile.
I set the work of art down on the table, and take a moment to myself. I haven’t looked outside yet. It just hadn’t occurred to me. I move towards the front door, undo both locks, and open it. I wasn’t ready for what I saw. I was ready for anything but this.
There wasn’t a goddamn thing different about it. There leaves and twigs and a few small branches here and there, but nothing incredibly noticeable. I just laugh. I can’t stop myself. I fall down, tears streaming down my face. I just keep laughing.
Finally, I get a hold of myself and stand up. I keep laughing, but I’m not doing it so hard I lose control of myself. I close the door and head back towards my sandwich. I go to the other fridge in the laundry room and grab a bottle of water. I look at the two cases sitting in there, and start to laugh again.
I go and fetch my sandwich, then sit down in the recliner in the den, facing the TV. I don’t want to turn it on. I just keep eating, taking a few swigs of water here and there. I sigh, and finally pick up the remote. I press power.
“It looks as though Rita didn’t hit us as hard…”
I turn it off before she can finish the sentence. I’ve finished my sandwich, my water is empty, I get up and throw them in the trash can in the kitchen. I suddenly have a terrible taste in my mouth.
I spit into the sink a few times. It doesn’t really help, but I figured it wouldn’t. I start for my room and stop about halfway through the den. I stare at the black TV screen.
“You didn’t have to lie that much, you son of a bitch.”
I walk into my room and close the door behind me. I lock it. I feel sorely disappointed. I pick up a movie. There’s time to be wasted, you know.
So Vivid I Missed It
My hand hits the wall with a hard thud. It hurts, but not so bad as to say anything. I let it fall back onto my face, use it to rub my eyes. I sit up a little bit, running my hand through my hair. It’s thick, and I haven’t take a shower in two days. I yawn real big, so big that a tear escapes from my right eye.
I stare down at the comforter. It’s dulled, gotten a bit old over the years. You can hardly tell where it’s not supposed to be white anymore. There’s so many rips in the damn thing you’d think it came that way. I let my head fall back and land on my pillows. I sigh.
I look over at the clock. It’s 1:15. In the afternoon. I slept a lot longer than I intended. Then again, when you don’t plan on doing anything, is there really a reason to get up? I just lay there, letting my hands rest on my forehead and along my left side. I just kind of grumble, then get up.
I walk over to the jeans straddled over the chair in front of my computer. I pick them up, put them on, and let out another huge yawn. The tear comes out the left eye this time. It gets caught on my nostril and defies gravity to go up into my nostril. I have to flick at it for a second to get reacquainted with everything. I shake my head.
I look around for my shirt. I finally see it on my couch. I take two steps over to it and pick it up. It smells bad. Come to think of it, so do the jeans. I turn around and see a bottle of Febreze on my dresser. I take two steps back towards it, and pick it up, and spray the shirt twice, once on the front and once on the back. I do the same with the jeans, but without taking them off.
I put the shirt on after taking a seat in my computer chair. I click on the monitor to see that everything is still working. That’s nice. I start to click around, open my web browser, and go and check my e-mail. Nothing good. Again. Kind of used to that at this point.
I yawn again. Lord, I slept for twelve hours, you’d think I’d be rested. But apparently you’d be wrong. My stomach makes a wonderful gurgling sound. I pat it, then stand up and start for the door. I trip on my shoes and fall face first onto my bed. I push up, and turn to the door. That wasn’t something that happens everyday.
I open the door and look left. My parent’s bedroom door is still shut, which isn’t like them at all. I look left, and see that my sister’s room too, is closed. I thought I was the only one who slept this late. I shrug. Everyone’s lazy from time to time I suppose.
I walk down the hall, avoiding the lump of fat on the floor that is my dog. She looks up at me as I pass by, a look of hope in her eyes. I smile at her. She gets up and starts to walk alongside me. Well, maybe not so much walk as waddle, but it’s cute when she does it.
I make my way through the den, eventually finding my way into the kitchen. The tile feels good on my feet. The dog starts to walk small circles around me. She makes some noises, and eventually I cave. I go into the pantry, and crouch down to the very bottom shelf, and pick up her treats. I throw one to her, and she clenches it in her teeth then disappears into the laundry room.
I make a nice burp loud enough to be heard back in my room, but since no one is up, who’s it going to hurt? I open the fridge. My eyes dart all about, settling on the drawer where we keep the lunchmeat. I pull out a package of turkey and a package of swiss cheese. I place them on the counter, then go back in and grab the mustard and mayonnaise. This is going to be good.
I close the fridge, then reach on top of it to grab a paper plate. I place it on the counter, then walk to the opposite end and grab the bread. With a simple, almost elegant motion, I remove the twist tie. Picking out two fine pieces of bread, I place them on the plate and close the bread, throwing it back towards it’s place.
Then it happens. An urge I can’t fight at all. I start to dance. It starts slow, a little dropping of the shoulders. It gets stronger and stronger, till eventually I’m trying my best to do John Travolta’s routine from Saturday Night Fever. I do this for about a minute, then finally decide that maybe I should just make my sandwich. So I do.
I put everything away, and take a bite of my newly completed masterpiece. It’s good. It’s SO good. The flavors melt together in my mouth, a medley of wonder and joy. I smile. Not just any smile, but a big Kool-Aid smile. A smile that would make even the sourest of sour pusses smile.
I set the work of art down on the table, and take a moment to myself. I haven’t looked outside yet. It just hadn’t occurred to me. I move towards the front door, undo both locks, and open it. I wasn’t ready for what I saw. I was ready for anything but this.
There wasn’t a goddamn thing different about it. There leaves and twigs and a few small branches here and there, but nothing incredibly noticeable. I just laugh. I can’t stop myself. I fall down, tears streaming down my face. I just keep laughing.
Finally, I get a hold of myself and stand up. I keep laughing, but I’m not doing it so hard I lose control of myself. I close the door and head back towards my sandwich. I go to the other fridge in the laundry room and grab a bottle of water. I look at the two cases sitting in there, and start to laugh again.
I go and fetch my sandwich, then sit down in the recliner in the den, facing the TV. I don’t want to turn it on. I just keep eating, taking a few swigs of water here and there. I sigh, and finally pick up the remote. I press power.
“It looks as though Rita didn’t hit us as hard…”
I turn it off before she can finish the sentence. I’ve finished my sandwich, my water is empty, I get up and throw them in the trash can in the kitchen. I suddenly have a terrible taste in my mouth.
I spit into the sink a few times. It doesn’t really help, but I figured it wouldn’t. I start for my room and stop about halfway through the den. I stare at the black TV screen.
“You didn’t have to lie that much, you son of a bitch.”
I walk into my room and close the door behind me. I lock it. I feel sorely disappointed. I pick up a movie. There’s time to be wasted, you know.