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Fasten Your Egyptian Beetle Garments
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The Andromeda Pain
2.24.2003 by , every Monday.
I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I count the water stains, to amuse myself.
“One.”
Or maybe that's a dead bug. It's time for more cough syrup, I realize. I attempt to roll in order to face the table by my bed, but instead of rolling, I make a sound like “fnorp” and twitch slightly. For some reason, I think of a girlfriend I had back in high school. Remembering how she left me for the mascot of the junior high football team gives me the nervous energy to flip myself over onto my side.
And over onto my face. Despite how painful it is to breathe, I decide that I'd still rather do it than not, and manage to turn my head until I see the table, which I discover has been moved about six hundred miles from the edge of my bed. I see little gremlins dancing around the bottle of the sweet, sweet nectar that is Robitussin DM, mocking my inability to swat them. If only I hadn't used up my eye lasers destroying the Angel of Death, I could torch the little bastards. Of course, my recent discovery that my thumbs are actually tiny ICBMs could help me here . . .
I return to reality with a jump, due mainly to my cat deciding to assist me via the time-tested method of sitting on my head and licking his butt. “Go get help, boy!” I manage to hiss, which, as always, results in his sauntering to the end of my bed and falling asleep. Good boy.
My head suddenly explodes, detonated by the sound of the “Indiana Jones” theme playing in my ear. And to think I thought it a good idea to program that ring into the cell phone, or to even get the damned thing in the first place. Over and over it plays, as my hand creeps toward it, inch by painful inch. Finally my hand reaches it, and starts the long trip back, my arm struggling to support the nine hundred pound monstrosity that is the Nokia 3390.
“Grxpt?” I mumble.
“HELLOSIRHOWAREYOUTODAY? I'M CALLING TO TELL YOU ABOUT AN EXCITING OPPORTUNITY TO GET A CERTIFIED AMERICAN NATIONAL PATRIOT BANK GOLD PLATINUM TITANIUM TUNGSTEN KRYPTONITE CARD WITH NO PRESET LIMIT AND AN APR OF ONLY 37% AND . . .”
I don't hear the rest of the pitch, as I have traded the phone to the gremlins in exchange for the cough syrup. I smile as I hear the crunching noises of either my phone or telemarketer bones.
Sweet dreams at last.
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