Monday, December 3, 2007

What A Day - Part One

"What a Day!" is the first story (in terms of timeline) of the "Group Therapy" epic.

What A Day!
by Ronald Matthew Kelly
Copyright 2007

Part One: A New Dawn

buzz buzz buzz

"What the Hell is that noise," I think to myself. "Is there a fly trapped here in my bedroom?"

That's all I need! Here I am, trying to recover from a night of drunken debauchery, and a fly is trying to keep me from sleeping. I hate him. I hate him, his mother, his father, and all of his little fly brothers and sisters.

buzz buzz buzz

"Persistent little bastard, aren't you!," I call out to my flying bedside companion. "Why don't you settle down somewhere, relax, and catch a little shut-eye yourself? I'm trying to sleep here!"

My entreaty is to no avail. I still hear him, or possibly her, flying around the room.

buzz buzz buzz

I try to ignore the noise, but it is no use. I can't seem to shut out the noise. I cover my head with my pillow, but it doesn't work. If anything, the noise seems to get louder.

Buzz Buzz Buzz

Try as I might, I cannot ignore the noise, and return to the land of dream-time slumber. The noise becomes louder still.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

With murder in my heart, I fling my pillow away. I have a plan. I'm going to hunt down that little flying bastard, and end his life prematurely, allowing me to return to the sleep I so desperately need!

I'd rather live and let live, but the fly won't let me sleep! And I so desperately need my sleep! I have to be up in a few hours, to go to work, to earn my daily bread, bread I so desperately need to fund the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed: drunkenness, degeneracy, and debauchery.

In the company of my faithful friend and blood brother, Johnny Wraith, I have elevated drunkenness, degeneracy and debauchery to high art. But I must have sleep, so that I may be regenerated, to enable me to further partake of the of the excesses of life. I must stop the fly from interfering with my sleep! He is interfering with the natural order of my life, and for this he must pay!

Flinging the covers from my body, I hurl myself out of my bed. Standing in my darkened bedroom, I begin to rant at the fly.

"I'll kill you, you lousy sonuvabitch! Where are you? Don't hide from me, it will only prolong your agony when I finally catch you!"

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

"It's your choice," I scream, enraged by the fly's lack of respect for my person.

"Give yourself up peacefully, and I will make your death easy and painless! Continue to hide yourself from me, and I promise a slow, agonizing death, starting with the removal of your wings, and ending with you begging for mercy, longing for the instant death of my thumb crushing you. Which will be denied you! Once the torture begins, there will be no turning back, no mercy! Only endless pain and sorrow! It's your choice!"

"Reveal yourself, fly! Be a man, and take your just punishment!"

I take no notice of the absurdity of telling a fly to take his punishment like a man.

The noise continues.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

"Right!," I calmly say, "So that's the way you want it."

I turn slowly towards the source of the noise. I do not want the fly evading me at the last minute.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Through my peripheral vision, I begin to see the area that where my ears tell me the fly must be. I continue to turn towards the source of the noise.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

A blinking light captures my attention. Continuing my turn, the blinking light begins to resolve itself into an coherent image. The noise continues.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Focusing my eyes, the image leaps into clarity.

This is what I see:

"6:03 AM" (blink)

This is what I hear:

"BUZZ"

The image, and noise, continue to repeat themselves, completely synchronized:

6:03 AM (blink) BUZZ 6:03 AM (blink) BUZZ 6:03 AM (blink) BUZZ

Then a change in the image:

6:04 AM (blink) BUZZ 6:04 AM (blink) BUZZ 6:04 AM (blink) BUZZ

Slowly, I become aware of the fact that I am looking at, and listening to, the alarm clock at on the table at the side of my bed.

6:04 AM (blink) BUZZ 6:04 AM (blink) BUZZ 6:04 AM (blink) BUZZ 6:04 AM (blink) BUZZ

Apologizing for my mistake to all flies everywhere, I reach over, and turn off the alarm.

The noise abates. My bedroom is eerily quite. I sit back down on the bed. I resist the urge to lie back down, and go back to sleep. This I cannot do. I must prepare my self for work. I have to go to work. it is the natural order of things.

Head pounding, I rest my chin on my hands, staring balefully at the clock.

6:04 AM. 6:05 AM. 6:06 AM...

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

My eyes fly opened, startled. The snooze time elapsed, the alarm clock had begun to scream at me anew.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

I reach over to shut the alarm off completely. Standing up, I stagger to the bathroom to completely my morning rituals.

A new day had dawned.

"Shit," I exclaimed aloud.

The last one had barely ended!



To be continued...

4 comments:

Johnny Wraith said...

I liked this story because it captures the mundane but agonizing act of waking up to the alarm clock in the dream state when more rest is needed, how our minds will try to rationalize away the nonstop BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ! This story turns the simple act of waking up early into a heroic and epic feat. Lately you've been reading Bukowski and it has reflections in this tale.

Anonymous said...

Johnny,

Thank you once again for your praise.

Ronald

Kyt Dotson said...

Hehe. It was nice and humorous, and fulfills an entertainment in the way that I can sympathize -- trying to wake up. And the whole event of hearing the alarm go off, getting up, and -- whilst staring blearily -- wondering where the night went!

Good luck with the paragraph-a-day treatment. It's a worthwhile and solid habit to keep the writing muscle exercise.

Anonymous said...

Kyt,

Thanks for your comment. Yeah, i had only intended to write about 200-250 woords, but the story went ahead and finished itself, coming in at almost 1000 words.

Oddly enough, I'm one of those writers whose stories write themselves inside of my head. I let them simmer and bake, and then when I sit down, it's almost as if my fingers puke the story onto the page. I've never had a problem with writer's block, per se. It's always about finding the time to actually sit down and dictate the story through my fingers.

I've actually considered carrying around a tape recorder, and getting some voice recognition software. Then at the end of the day, I could just let the tape run into the computer, and do some editing.

Just a pipe dream for now, as my current computer isn't quite up to the task of reliably working with VR software.

Anyway, glad you liked the story. I had a lot of fun imaging the action as I was "finger puking" it. When I was in college, about 25years ago, I had an experience very similar to the story. There was no fly, but there was a mosquito (for real). The mosquito died young.

I mourn his passing everyday. Not!

Ronald