Losing the Daily War

The first villain of the day is a cheap plastic menace called the “Dream Machine.” It mocks me every morning with a repeating BEEP BEEP BEEP as I lunge for the snooze. Shut the hell up! I think and I slap blindly in its direction. It’s like the damn thing sprouted wires from its body overnight to vine up the walls and blossom tiny speakers from the buds. Now they’re BEEP BEEP BEEP-ing me into a drowsy rage.

I slap at the machine again and again, missing every hit. I crane my head to search with my eyes, shooting sleepy fury with one eyebrow cocked in bewilderment and the other furrowed so deeply it’s digging into my skull. I scan the darkness for the green glow of numbers.

Got you, motherfucker.

I raise my hand, a five-fingered salute to the five more minutes I’m about to enjoy, and I bring it down. The snooze button clicks and rattles and learns pain.

I win.

I wriggle back into the covers to cocoon myself into slumber, but it’s no use. Sleep is fading like a dream and I get only snatches of peace.

I’ve lost again. Guess I’ll go make some coffee.

I luxuriate in the smell of a fresh brew as it drip, drip, drips into the decanter. The promise of coffee soothes my irritation. I sip, and everything is fine. Life is good. It’s all sunshine and daisies and cute little puppy dogs rolling in the grass from here on out. Today’s gonna be a good–


Oh for fuck’s sake.

Inspired by a Daily Prompt from the Daily Post.


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