By Joseph Hamilton.
I am sure every existing entity that has ever woke up has experienced what I like to call �A Bad Day�. These are terrible occurrences in which all of humanity seems to have plotted your discomfort, displeasure, while oxygen decided to buddy with gravity to deepen the wound. You find yourself in a pit of self anger and loathing that just burns a hole right through any happy resolve that might have accompanied your awakening.
I feel I am an expert on bad days, I have pretty much catalogued the experiences in the labyrinth that is my mind. One such experience has befell me recently. It has not only brought upon a pure sickening, and almost ritualistic nostalgia. That when certain events allow me to revisit this lingering, terrible experience that has just unfolded its self for me I curse the events, I curse them I say.
This recent event has left me bedazzled on how much simple bad stuff can happen in a single moment and how easy it is to plot a humans demise. It all started when I was in my bliss, the land I visit on every occasion I get. The dream existence, the perfect pure world where anything happens. A world that for many years I have tried to conquer and came close to at many attempts. Living in that world is so much easier. Though difficulty of brain to body conversation is apparent as I was trusted from my happy place into a terrible world of hurt. The image of my own leg stretching like something from a cartoon blazes in my head right before I am jolted from my dream and thrown into sheer agony.
The Cramp. My ultimate enemy. The purist form of pain that makes me beg for death. It burnt, oh the horrific agony built with in my nerves and told my brain I am nothing but natures bitch. I found myself rolling in pain on my bed, begging for it to stop. Half asleep, I could barely understand my surroundings. The world felt ablaze, and I joined this little waltz. I screamed, loud, heavy, my voice echoed down the eerily empty rooms of the upstairs quarters. Nothing, nothing phased the other occupants of my house. It was seven o clock, my human instincts told me this. I echoed my roar of pain over and over with no answer, no comforting what�s a mater to confirm some kind of distraught worry for my well being. No. Nothing. I was with out my grandmothers almost instantaneous backing. Her almost super sense to tell when something was wrong.
I was alone in my pain. Alone to die! I bound forth on the bed screaming, pain, it was terribly comical. Words exited my mouth that where not even spoken by tribes in bum-funk Egypt. Oh yes, I cursed every living creature that didn�t join me in my pain in what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes. I felt the pain dissipate slowly. After a few moments, I could do nothing but lay powerless as if I had just had sex with every contestant of Miss Nude Everything. I dazed between reality and the dream world, bouncing forth and back, and finding myself waking, warning! �You mustn�t sleep you fool! Cramps are bad things and very deadly if you allow them to become a clot!� Bounced through my mind. I could do nothing but sacrifice the sanctum of my bed to wobble on a weakened tattered leg from one room to the other.
Upon my arrival in said room I found myself with another disgusting obstacle. Stairs, nearly fifteen of the bastards. Hobbling from ball to ball, on each foot I attempted my decent. The decent was short lived as it became a clumsy fall before crashing into the door that my grandmother must leave shut. I smashed into the useless contraption and it flung open. I rolled out onto my feet and found my grandmother sitting at the kitchen table watching television, her hearing aid in front of her. My anger boiled, though the pain beckoned no disgust, only pure attention. I thought, maybe a warm shower would calm my nerves.
With out comment I simply repositioned myself into the bathroom. In which undressed and stood in the shower. Turning the little dial at first, waters as hot as the fire of Hades burnt my flesh. This made me wince and retreat in pain. After a few seconds I scooted back to the controlled rain to allow myself to be emerged in the joy that was a hot shower. Though I was no longer met with that scalding ecstasy, oh no. Instead, luke warm decided to visit me while I stood naked in the shower.
Under the comically cool waters my testicles shriveled and my anger grew. I promptly took my shower, thinking nothing else could go wrong. Surely I had spent all my bad karma from the previous day? Wrong. As I stepped out of the shower to reach for a towel in their usual cabinet, there where none to be had. Only one single solitary pale green rag�
I simply shouted for my grandmothers advice, as to where the towels are, or for her to simply retrieve me one from the laundry room. However my roars of frustration, continued on and on, and where unanswered. I opened the bathroom door just enough to squeeze my head through the crevice created by it and I was just in time to see our cat, escaping his confines and making his way into the kitchen. Which, of course, is no-kitty�s land.
I quickly reached for the rag to cover �myself� and bounded forward after the cat. He easily evaded my attempt to retrieve him. I fallowed him as he made little work of the stairs that lead to my room. I hobbled up the stairs in which I fell, grabbing the cat by the tail, I pulled him down. Picking him up and cradling him in my arms to keep him from scratching me, which, failed. I was sliced open by his back claws. The pain caused me to squeeze the cat a little bit more �lovingly� then I usually would.
As I approached the back porch where, to, drop such a lovely kitten off. I saw my grandmother, gossiping on the phone. Now, this is common thing around here, in fact, my grandmothers talent is gossiping. But for some reason, it angered me so right now. The furry built with in my soul, throwing the cat (gently) onto the porch I yelped at my grandmother. In all my naked glory. �God damn it! Stop gossiping and get me a fucking towel, NOW!� still covering myself with said rag. Now, do not get me wrong, I am rarely this devilish but this day was a exception. With my mood spiraling toward a quick doom. I turned, stomped back to the bathroom in which my grandmother responded so deviously. �Look god damn it!� and pointed to the very tip top cabinet, in which, usually such things as sheets and blankets once rested, now towels.
Treating me as if I where the antagonist, she grunted and turned. Anger swelled with in my being and there was no describing my mood now. After a quick drying off, I rose above the first floor into my rooms. My mother had now confiscated the computer from me, I now was left to simply sit and watch her in my boredom. I swallowed my rage and hobbled to my second, almost broken chair. I used one leg to turn myself, I descended with a fall that caused the chair to rock and tip. The tipping sent me flying off backwards, hitting my leg on the hardwood floor and grunting in pain. My chair broken, my leg roaring with pain, and my mood shot. I simply exited the room and drifted into a boundless pit of pure rage and complaint, that was soon fallowed by magical dreams�
