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Dec 22, 2006 06:48

I know you guys don't normally read a work of mine when I post it here or at the very least don't bother to comment but by golly I'm gunna put it up anyway. Feel free to edit, comment, praise, demean, whatever you want, just so long as I know you read it and I know what you thought of it. Thanks



I can tell before I even get out of bed. The alarm clock gives off a weak, half hearted buzz and I can tell that it doesn’t want to get out of bed either. I stick my right leg off the side of the bed and let it dangle off the side as though it doesn’t belong to me. The left leg however, was an ordeal which I could not separate myself from. To move my left leg means moving my entire body which I am not prepared for. Be sheer force of subconsciousness I move my left leg off the bed and lay like religious worshiper rotated 90 degrees praying for something, anything to move the day along.
I take a deep breath and stand and for a moment I seem to plunge into a pool of anti-thought. As the blood rushes to my head I stumble my way to the alarm clock placed on the opposite side of the room and silence the clock by poking the snooze button with my toe. I quickly realize that removing one foot from the floor is a bad move and struggle to place it back on the carpet. I start to move to one side of the room to the other but once I get there I forget what I was going to do there and move to the other side, rinse repeat. Two minutes later I make a move to the bathroom, a change in scenery at last.
I turn on the shower and sit on the toilet. The toilet is where I find my mind. Every morning I follow this exact script, mindlessly, without an influence from anything past, present, or future but it is on the toilet where I find myself. I imagine that it is something like birth or perhaps when some sentient being is summoned suddenly without a past to refer to.

“I think I see a face in that wallpaper…

Face…

Oh yeah, face, that thing right here,”
I think as I move my hand to my face,

“What is that bump? Shit, another pimple? I started getting pimples in middle school, when is it gunna stop? God middle school sucked thank god I’m in college now. I can’t believe I failed my Philosophy class. I’m surprised my mom didn’t flip. Mom is a lesbian. I don’t really know why my sister flips out when other people find out. It’s not a big deal in this day and age. Deal, like the new deal thing in the 1930’s with FDR. FDR rocked in World War II. War, yeah there’s war in Iraq. That’s what president Bush says anyway. God I hate Bush. When did McCain and Bush become butt buddies? McCain was hilarious on the Daily show. Mitch Hedberg was hilarious, I aught to thank Nick for introducing him to me. Me, I’m Kevin Walkup age 18, college student, writer, 6’3” and then some, way too long blonde hair, Friendly, free thinking, not so confident about physical appearance, recovering apathy junky.”

And so it goes until the extent of my knowledge unveils itself to me and I realize, as I do every morning, that I don’t want to be conscious and start looking for a blunt object. Ya know, shampoo bottles can look like a good self mutilation tool at 6am, that is until the cold water hits. I wish I could see my face when I get hit with cold water. I imagine that it looks like the love child of an orgasm face and the impression made by being smacked in the face by one of those “pin art” things after having your spleen forcibly removed by an ancient Chinese martial arts master. Regardless of what it looks like it is definitely the face of a person completely forgetting about thoughts of suicide.
There are several things I really don’t like about showers. Let us contemplate temperature/pressure control placement. The only reason why you would change the temperature in a shower is because it is too hot or too cold for your comfort. Why then would you place the controls to the shower so that you have to pass directly into the stream of water to reach it? I feel like I’m in a Saw movie.

“Hello, I want to play a game.”

“What the hell? Did I leave the scrabble game in the shower again?”

“I’ve set the temperature of the water to a semi-painful 47 Degrees Fahrenheit. If you don’t change it you’ll be late for work, but if you do this camera will take a picture of your cold water face and email it instantaneously to all your family, friends, coworkers, and the guy you who works at the gas station.”

“Oh dear god you’re a sick bastard!”

“You have 30 seconds to make a choice or else I start showing you that there really are more than one ways to skin a kitten.”

So I try to think of something clever like reaching around the watery stream of doom but the shower curtain and the wall have accumulated a liquid defense layer and it becomes apparent that the only thing I can do is suck it up and take it like a man that’s that is afraid of cold water. So I shut my eyelids tight and focus. I release my inner mind and survey the room.

Time stands still…

I see it; the opening; the one chance to reach the handle unscathed and I react like a mongoose in a viper pit, like Neo in a fist fight, like an English professor to bad comma usage and my arm snaps out and pushes the control handle exactly 22 degrees counter clockwise to the ideal temperature setting. Unfortunately the inner mind failed to take into account that warm water doesn’t start coming out of the shower until a couple seconds after you adjust it. When the cops come to find the spleen I stole I’m going to blame it on the matrix for making me believe that I could beat the shower.
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