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Wednesday, February 23, 2005
the insomniac, pt. 1
"Goddamnit, I can't sleep," screamed the insomniac in his house. He drew the curtains down. "They'll get me if I sleep, won't they? Won't they? I know they will!"
He went and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It had little bumps on it. He reached up and wanted to feel them. He got up and stood up on his bed and did just that.
"Feels like pimples," he whispered to himself. "The ceiling's got pimples! It's infected!" He started to laugh. It was uncontrollable, and he fell down, out of breath, back onto his bed.
Everything was so funny this late at night.
He turned on his lamp beside his desk. He put his hands in front of him, and made dog ears with his fingers. It made a large, looming shadow on the wall. "Woof! Woof!" he barked, imitating a dog. "I'mma watch dog!"
After a while, even that got boring. He went upstairs and stared out the window of his living room. Whenever he looked out here late at night, he always got the shivers. Before he got to the window, he expected a bug-eyed alien to be there, waiting to take him to who knows where. But maybe it was better than here? Maybe there he'd actually be able to sleep.
No bug-eyed alien here this time. All he saw was the world frozen in darkness. Not a damn thing was moving out there, save the moths attracted to the streetlamp, or the stars' twinkle. If only the world bathed in day was like this. Then it would be serene.
"I guess I'll go for a walk," he said to himself. He was getting quite bored with staring out the window, not a thing going on.
He walked, and ended up walking beside a field. Its plant-life gently swayed in the breeze. Then suddenly, he heard the rustling of someone running through the fields. "They're coming!" he yelled, and began sprinting away.
That was when he heard a bang, only it wasn't as loud as gun. Sudden pain hit him at the leg. He'd been shot! It was them! Trying to put him to sleep! He knew it! He could feel the downer entering his bloodstream now, feel it woozing him. Making him drowsy.
Then he looked at it and realized it was just a paintball from a paintball gun. "Goddamn kids!" he screamed. He could see a shadowy form somewhere off in the field. "If I hear another of you fire, I'm calling the cops! People are trying to sleep!" And he certainly wasn't one of them. The shadowy form ran off. The irony of him helping others sleep made him have a belated laugh, as he stood there with the pain in his leg stinging like a bee sting. That would bruise in the morning, it was sure.
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