2007-01-27 1:47 p.m. As he clawed his way out of the ground, the first thought Gerald had was that they probably had not buried him with his wallet. A quick pat of the thighs and his suit's inside pocket confirmed his worries. Nothing. He was going to have to walk home. -- "Mom! Dad! I'm home!" shouted Gerald. The back door had been open, thank goodness, because he didn't have keys either. "No you're not!" he heard his father shout from the basement, where his father maintained a workshop. "He's right, dear!" his mother called from the bedroom. "We buried you yesterday! You passed away peacefully in your sleep! Now KEEP IT DOWN! I have a headache!" From downstairs, a table saw started up and wood screamed as it was pushed passed the spinning blade. Gerald took a seat at the kitchen table. "I need to get a better alarm clock. Maybe that's the trick," he said. He took a butter knife and idly let it fall against the table's butter, which was slowly melting on its tray. He gathered his thoughts and braced himself to go look in his room and see if it was empty, his clothing & bed thrown out, given away, burned. Just like last time. |
1. today is nice 3. happy yesterdays 8. thanks for hosting 4. doing other things |
(Proof that I am the only one reading.) |