I get up around Seven

I open the little striped box I bought at Target for the wonderful deal of one dollar. I flip through the hot bubblegum pink index cards that contain de-lish mixed drink recipes that adulterate wonderful things. All the way to the back… taped to the last card. Yes. There it is. It. Yes another lovely. Shifting some papers I spot the little black mirror with matching faux leather carrying case. I pinpoint the box of gems sitting on top of the recordable cd’s. Ha. The container says Economy Size. I didn’t realize I'd purchased that many. Where’s my straw? Did Destin take it again? That damn cat steals every one of my straws. As I set up my station what comes up next on my mp3 player but a eidolon from the early 90’s.
*I get up around seven
Get outta bed around nine
And I don't worry about nothin'
no Cause worryin's a waste of my fuckin' time
How so appropriate! I am amused by this.
The show usually starts around seven
We go on stage around nine
Get on the bus about eleven
~Smokin' a blunt and feelin' fine
~My version...The true words are Sippin a drink
We been dancin'
with Mr. Brownstone
He's been knockin'
He won't leave me alone
I sit and ponder why he won’t leave him alone. What the hells wrong with him? Jeezus Pete dude, you can’t take a hint? I laugh as I realize I’m talking outloud to a fictional character... that feels pretty real at times. I use one of the gems to split the lovely. Right down the middle. Um… slides right thru. I take my time and bequeath much love. I start humming.. enjoying my task at hand…
I used ta do a little
but a little wouldn't do
So the little got more and more
I just keep tryin'
ta get a little better
Said a little better than before
Hm… more and more ‘eh? What the fuck ‘eh? We only get one life. Might as well live the hell out of it to ensure we go to Heaven. Yeah.. sick joke. Sorry. It’s what happens to my mind sometimes.. I go over the fence. Don’t worry. I never stay long. Softly laughing.
I used ta do a little
but a little wouldn't do
So the little got more and more
Humming as I slice and slice. Gotta get it into minute pieces. I graze the gem across the smooth surface of the mirror and cause goose bumps on my arms. I laugh. That part always gets me.. “Nails on a chalkboard” effect and all. I continue to slice.
I just keep tryin'
ta get a little better
Said a little better than before
I lay the gem down beside the tidy little pile of white. Now where’s that straw?
We been dancin' with
Mr. Brownstone
He's been knockin'
He won't leave me alone Now I get up around whenever
I used ta get up on time
But that old man
he's a real muthafucker Gonna kick him on down the line


(Disclaimer: This work of fiction was created by and is owned by the Author of this blog. *Mr Brownstone is by Guns & Roses and is probaby owned by them too)