iMorning

iMorning

Morning was broken. You could tell it had broken as there was a loud clunky sound, immediately followed by the noise, very reminiscent, of a tightly wound spring twanging to freedom. And then a deep monotone sigh of; ‘here we go again’. The sun had gathered all the stray star light and focussed it through a small gap in my curtains throwing a spot light onto my face; the superstar attraction; ‘ladies and gentlemen, we give you the star of the morning show, Miss Drew, who will now attempt to get up for work.’ Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Chance would be a fine thing. There he lies, bless him, not quite snoring but making a sort of dirty phone call type of sound. Little sweetie would make a good perv. I knee him in the back and he recoils with a grunt.

“Eh?”

It’s like a hideous zombie death takes him into the land of sleep. The drool dribble. The failed attempt to turn sounds into words. A bizarre almost ape like creature trying to comprehend the act of breathing, and last night me and it … thankfully I’m too tired to be repulsed. Maybe disappointment. That doesn’t sound so taxing, and I could probably do it in my sleep.

“Was you getting up to go to the toilet? Don’t make me get up, you bastard. Don’t make me get up. Right now you need to claw back some love, so don’t make me get up.

“Nah. I wasn’t gonna but I might have to now.”

Yes! Yes! Small victories, now she’s heading back into a chocolate factory with Johnny Depp which turns out to be a pirate ship and Drew’s held hostage to do all the cooking and washing. Ho hum. Still gotta be better than going to work. Under the duvet I haven’t yet been born.

“Only when yer do, can yer sort that gap out in the curtains.” Don’t make me get up, you bastard. Please don’t make me get up. Be a gentleman. Don't make the day give birth to me. I'm not ready. I'm still embryonic.

“What’s the time? We gotta get up for work yet?”

“I dunno. The alarm clock ain’t working. Morning has broken too.”

“I’ll fix it tomorrow.“