Thursday, September 3, 2015

Dog Days

I open my eyes.  I look to the digital clock on my right. It's on large cardboard moving box, along with an empty crate of ice cream.  6 A.M.  Ugh. I know my alarm won't go off for another hour, but I push my heavy blankets aside and shiver as I put my warm toes on the cold floor. Better to be early than late. Well, not really. I sit down in front of my mirror (it's one of those cheap 5 dollar ones that you're supposed to hang on the wall). Ugh again. That song from Mulan comes to mind. I tuck my hair behind my ear. I realize the bags under my eyes take up my entire face. I tug on my cheek and push on my nose. At least my skin has cleared up. BEEP BEEP..
"AAH!!" I scream and fall back, kicking my legs out, making contact with glass. Then the dreaded shatter of a mirror. "Shit!" BEEP BEEP.. I carefully get up BEEP BEEP making sure not to step on any glass BEEP BEEP and turn that asinine machine off. That really didn't feel like an hour. It's a good thing I don't believe in bad luck, because looking at that mirror now, it's obliterated. I leave the glass where it is, with absolutely no motivation whatsoever to clean it up. I then pick up a shirt from a laundry basket and a skirt laying out on the ground. I find a bra in one of my boxes and by the time I've found my whole outfit I've touched every corner of my room. For breakfast I have a banana and aspirin. Time to go.

I pull up to Business Express at 8:10 A.M. My jobs isn't great - well, it is a paycheck. Which I really need. I walk to the end of the hall and open the door that doesn't fit into the frame. I work as a.. I do.. web design. It's a dumb job. It doesn't sound dumb, but I work for a - well never mind.  It's what I get for being smart, but not smart enough to go to college. And I can't go now because the banks won't approve my loans. Screw them.
Finally, the clock turns 12:00 P

.M. Lunch break. I'm the only one in my office, so I head out alone. I walk down the hall and see a sign on a door that reads THERAPY right as it swings open.
"Ouch!" I say before I run into it. Smack. Yeah. That hurts. A lady steps out, in her hand a can of Kola.
"Oh my heavens I am SO sorry my dear!" She exclaims. "Do come in, I must make it up to you at once!"
"Really, it's okay," I say with a funny voice because my nose is bleeding. I try to walk away, but she grabs me and pulls me into her office. I can't tell where we're going seeing as I can't see.
"I'm Ms. M. Take a seat dear. I'll give you a free therapy session as a way to make it up."
"No, really, I just want to get lunch." I try to say. I don't want to talk. She could make it right by letting me go.
"Just tell me about your day..."

I step out of my once red car(it's now a strange burnt umber) with a steaming cup of tea. It's 12:45 P.M. My car gives a weak beep when I lock it, and I fumble to open my purse with one hand. I grab the zipper, and spill the tea down my front. I take a deep breath in. It's okay. I look up at the dinky beauty shop ahead. It's this store that needs a makeover. I pull open the old door, its hinges screaming. It hardly needs those bells. Inside I see basically what I expect. A salon chair in the back, mirrored walls, and lots of mannequin heads. A woman in the back turns around.
"Hiya doll, what can I do ya for?" Her voice comes our deep and gravelly.
"Oh, I guess I need to spice things up a bit. Something different," I respond. "I do have a budget." She laughs.
"By the way, my name's Betty."
"Piper." We shake hands.
"Let me show you around to the makeup section," she takes two steps over. "and I'm guessing you'll need a buttload of concealer considering ya nose."

I head back to my office, and arrive at 2:15 P.M. I walk down the long hall again. I twist the knob on my door. It doesn't open. I knock.
"Hello! Anyone here?" A  piece of paper slides out from under the door. I pick it up and flip it over. It reads, YOU'RE FIRED. "Is this a joke!?" I bang on the door. "Hey! I don't even know who my boss is!" I sit down, and let my head fall into my arms. I can't get fired, I barely make it as it is. I walk down the dark and smelly hall for perhaps the last time. The carpet is dumb anyway. I go home and collapse.


  1. I'm excited to work with you! Please contact me when you're ready to start up an interaction!

  2. Um, well I'd like to have the post up soon, since this is a graded assignment and all. If you want to just go ahead and write whatever you please, I'm fine with that, or if you want to talk it out before hand, just contact me. :)

    1. I am so sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner!! I think maybe (if this is fine with you) i could get some dirt on you, and in order to keep my mouth shut, i get some information.

    2. Sure, thing! Where would you like this to take place, and under what circumstances should we meet? I suggest we meet at one of the three restaurants in the main blog.

    3. absolutely, shall we meet at little tokyo? I'll let you come up with the secret i uncover.

  3. Alright, I already have an idea in mind for Hemson's secret. But, what do you want to know in regards to info?

    1. I'd like to know about your girlfriend

  4. His romantic life is kind of weird, but I'll try. Would it be alright if I posted first?

    1. Yes more than alright if you still want to post