Wednesday, June 22, 2005

   Just found the last story I wrote, it was an auto-biography for a class.
ONE MORE DAY...
By Jeremy Smith

Part I
Once upon a time, I do believe it was six in the morning, because that is what I set my alarm clock for, I woke up, again. Getting up is no longer a chore to me, for I know I got a time limit and until the bus comes and I have to be out there before it reaches my stop, but that is way after I turn off my alarm clock and it’s annoying buzzing. After that usually the radio is shut off and I begin my scramble for the door. After reaching the doorknob and having a ten second battle of the wits with it the door opens. Luckily it wasn’t the closet door this morning, that would have been just cruel of my feet to do that to me again.
I slowly survey the hallway I am now in to make sure I’m where I think I am. Once again, luck is on my side, and I make my way down the hall. I give a quick stare at the chair at the end of the hall and notice the cat still there. I give her a quick pet and begin my journey down the infamous thirteen steps, where the last three are cluttered with electronics, trading cards, school supplies, sketches and dust bunnies. I give a leap of faith and jump over all of that mess and duck to avoid the top of the doorway. Unfortunately the landing was an improvable part of this play we call life and I land quite safely but rolling into the room across from the stairway into a room filled with the echo of my foul language drifting slowly into others rooms. Comedy.
I slowly regain my footing as I stand to, of course, my feet. I pivot on my left foot to turn around and make my way to prepare for my cleansing. I grab a set of random cloths off of the bottom of the stairwell and tuck them roughly under my arm. I bypass the bathroom to get to the towels in the closet. After snatching up a not so special pair, I finally step foot into the bathroom. I set my items onto the scale next to the sink and proceed to relieve myself in the way humans should do, into a porcelain basin called a toilet. As this process happens I feel my legs begin to give, so I lean forward and place my hand on the wall for support.
After this chore is finished I proceed to stip til in my “birthday suit” to put it mildly. To tell you the truth I wouldn’t wear this suit to a birthday even if it was my own. I shall skip the description of the suit, following my better judgement, and this story is suppose to be non-fiction. Next I seal myself into the shower and slowly turn the water on, testing temperature with my foot until I approve. At the pull of a knob the water shoots out like a shower should, or the way I think it should.
I stand for a while and take in the comfort and the warmth of the water. After a few seconds I lather up which I shall get into no more detail for obvious reasons. I wash the necessaries, such as the armpits for I have the worst smell when it comes to them. After a complete scrubbing, I shut off the flow and exit the shower and stand on the pre-laid towels from the day before. I casually unfold the towels and wrap myself in both, staring in the mirror in anguish of the cool breeze freshly blowing through the bathroom.
After a bit of coaching I convince myself that it is best to dry of and get dressed, as long as I don’t put anything on backwards. I dry my back first and then chest, neck, face, hair, legs and so on until I am dry and preparing to put that first leg through those boxers. It is like being drunk when your tired, trying to walk a straight line becomes more difficult and balance is a big factor because of that. I do my best to steady myself by leaning on the sink, and then, their up. What luck.
The other cloths seem to follow just as easy, maybe more so. The only problem is getting to the boots in the kitchen and not stepping in spilt water from the dog food bowl. Success, once again, so far I have completed two thirds of my morning with mostly no problems. Now I turn on the computer in the kitchen for later. Next comes more personal hygiene. Yay.
I enter the bathroom once again and open the cabinet behind the mirror. With a few grabs I got my toothbrush and the toothpaste in hand. The process that comes next isn’t that foreign to most people, so I shall explain no further. I then brush my hair back into the position I have come to know and love, for the time being. I then hear some footsteps as a figure enters my sight.
“I gotta pee.” My mother says bluntly.
“Hold on.” I request as I spit the contents of my mouth out again into the sink and rinse one more time. I pass my mother as I exit and she grunts as she enters. With that I enter the kitchen once more and grab my coat from a chair and swing it around until both arms are in the right sleeves. I then approach the computer, hit a few keys, click on a few thing, then I’m on the internet where I surf the online comics until there are no more that my memory can think to go to.
I then see my mother enter. As she points out the window I know she is pointing at my bus which is but a block away.
“Crap!” I yell along with other obscenities as I try to find all my supplies. Though the yelling of my mother doesn’t help much, it gives me more of a good reason to leave. I exit the door with just enough time to watch my bus leave. Once again, comedy.

It is more or less a few mornings combined, but still it is funny, no?
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