A Day in the Life
A Day in the Life
Morning is an evil bastard, the school bully. He follows just behind me waiting for me to let down my guard, and then slams me up against the lockers, a wicked grin on his face as he asks ?Does that hurt?? I hate him. I hate him and he knows it, so he torments me all the more. He forces me to smile while digging his fingers deep into my sore shoulder. ?Does that hurt?? ?How are you today?? Bastard! He knows fully well how I feel but he enjoys the sadistic cruelty he inflicts on me. He is a definite mental case but I hide those thoughts carefully, less he find out and hurt me some more. ?Good Morning?, I say, ?Nice Morning!? ?You look good? and ?Nice to see you!? I paste a silly caricature of a smile on my face and try to mollify him. Perhaps, if he sees that he cannot get to me he will wander off to torment some other poor soul. Go pick on the woman two offices down, I plead silently. The one that sings every time Morning is about. However he seems to like her. He is nice to her. I think the two of them are an item; they get along so well together. The Bastard! That song she sings grates on my frayed nerves.
Eventually he gets bored and wanders off. I get a reprieve from the constant bullying. Afternoon comes by for a visit and helps me settle into my work. Afternoon is a helpful sort, passing me the file I misplaced; showing me where I made the error in my spreadsheet. He has one annoying habit though that irks me. He clears his throat constantly and I look up every time he does so. ?Tick? and I glance up to the wall; ?Tock? and I glance up again. As time passes the Ticks are further apart from the Tocks but that is even more annoying. There is no pattern in it; there is no way I can block out the next Tick or the next Tock as he clears his throat over and over again. I get back to my work, more frantic then before, in an effort to get the water torture over with. Eventually he stretches and looks at the shadows on the wall, puts the paperwork down and bids me good day. Before he leaves though, he does one more irritating thing. He forces me to help him straighten all the files scattered on my desk, to empty the trash basket and brush the remnants of a hastily eaten lunch from the keyboard. I wonder if he is related in any way to Morning. Sadism seems to run in the family.
I run into Evening on my bus ride home and he is in great form already; joking and laughing he moves from seat to seat on the bus, the consummate clown, and soon he has everyone in an uproar. I cannot help myself and soon I am laughing along with him. He is a kid high on sugar candy; no attention span. He bounces from one seat to another in reckless abandon; telling a ribald joke here, singing a rousing song there. I get a particular sense of satisfaction when he wakes up the woman two seats in front of me; the office singer. She doesn?t like him and pouts because Morning is not around to defend her. Serves her right! I push Evening playfully, as I wander off the bus, causing him to fall in a pile of giggles next to her. What goes around, comes around, I whisper. Evening hurries to catch up with me, still giggling and laughing. He kicks a rock down the street, whistles as he opens the door. I even let him kiss my Wife, he deserves it and she seems to enjoy it. He is a party animal, plying me with drinks, song and laughter until well past his appointed hour. Then he leaves abruptly, dropping me back to reality with a thud. I frantically call for him to return but he has already disappeared down the street, leaving me to find my way back home by myself. The wife is not pleased at all. Evening has taken up most of my time and all she got out of it was a kiss. I grin sheepishly, and tell her to close her eyes and pretend I am Evening. She is not amused and not fooled and grins wickedly as she points behind me. I turn in dread to look at Night waiting down the hall. For some reason he seems cold to me.
Night is the Trickster of the family. He suffers from a multiple personality disorder. One day he can be kind and comforting and the next dark and frightening. He keeps me guessing constantly as to what his mood is. I sit and watch television and try to figure out his mood by glancing at him when he is not looking. However, he remains an enigma. The news goes by in a blur as my attention flits from the tube to Night. Silently he sits there, waiting for me to make the next move. He already has my Queen in check and I cannot see a move that will grant me a win. Checkmate; Night to King one. He wins again. I stumble down the hall, my head all fuzzy from the game and crawl into bed. The Wife is sleeping comfortably already. Sometimes I get the dread feeling that she is having an affair with Morning but then she cuddles up beside me and the feeling quickly fades. Night takes his position by the side of the bed, watching me in silence. I glance at him from time to time but he blends into the shadows and I cannot see what he is up to. Sometimes, fickle as he is, he dumps a basketful of Worry on me, causing me to thrash about as I try to toss them away before they smother me. The Wife moves over to the other side of the bed, leaving a cold spot beside me. Another time, Night shows me a movie and I drift off to sleep with a smile as I yearn to be in that Fantasy spot. Yet he remains the Trickster and he waits until I am happily asleep before letting lose a blood curdling scream. The Wife does not seem to hear Nights? roar and I cuddle up closer to her for protection. He leaves me alone then and I can just barely see him standing there in the green glow from the clock. Suddenly, he shakes me awake with a rude abruptness; leaving me with a warning. ?Morning is waiting for you!? Did I mention that Sadism seems to run in the Family?
I really hate Morning. The Bastard!
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