i'll try to shorten this as best i can...


a few years ago, me and a friend decided, after a solid 26 hours or more, to grab ahold of some serious slumber. it was around 10 in the mornin', and after the lengthy sleep-deprivation, i ambled wearily towards the living room couch, clad in boxers and a t-shirt, while he dropped like a human bomb onto my bed, not even bothering to doff his duds. well, after what felt like days of peaceful rest, i heard the doorbell ring. justifiably agitated, i forced myself up with a combination groan/throaty growl and drug heavy feet to the door. with eyes half-shut and clouded by a mixture of fatigue and annoyance, i swung the door open to be greeted with the withered, smiling face of an old woman. "is yer daddy home?", she inquired, obviously not sensing the inconvenient timing of her visit. i managed to squeeze out a mumbled "nuh-uh...", leaning on the door as not to spill forth a heapin' armload of chunky monkey onto the ancient lady with the terrible mornin' etiquette. with a genuine look of disappointment splashed on her face like the makeup of a dead whore, she settled on gabbin' my goddamn ear off instead of mercifully waitin' for papabear. she talked... i fought my brain's rightful desire to shut down all function and crumple, limbs fluidly akimbo, to the floor. but i noticed sumthin. weary though i was, i had seen that after a few banal sentences were on the table, her face twisted and contorted into an unsettled mask of revulsion. and then, after every few southern drawl-fueled liberties she took with the language, she began to take small steps back. a few more unwanted pleasantries... a few bigger steps back. this confusedly continued until she was finally and thankfully inside her car and makin' heavenly haste towards the road to whatever other sweet-assed gimpy fella she had to shake outta silky sleep. i tried to care why she acted that way, but the sleepless hours were pilin' up, and my brain wasn't havin' it. so with a half-hearted shrug and deep sigh, i pushed the door closed and turned back towards the sofa which, at this point, looked as inviting as the bosom of Bettie Page clad in a leopard-print bikini top. as i skidded socked feet against carpeted floor, i happened to catch myself in the hall mirror in all my red plaid-boxered swankness. i stopped... apparently, she had woken me in the middle of a decidely nice dream, as i was brimmin' with "mornin' glory". as such, i had snaked my way past the flimsy button of my shorts and outta the hole into the glorious light of freedom and room-temperature air. it was a sight, to be sure. i almost hated to go to back to sleep with such a beauty jutting proudly before me. so with a grin and headshake, i stuffed my lifelong runnin' buddy back into his stable and traipsed with a slight bounce to the couch, confident in the belief that i had exacted all the revenge that would be necessary on that woman... and that she'd wonder till her dyin' day if it was her that released the beast.