New SRM!Posted: September 17, 2006
Just something I wrote over a half hour. It suffers from my usual sensory overload issue.
At the sound of a shrill alarm a tall, lanky man with a buzz cut sits up in his messy, rumpled bed and looks around groggily. In the dim light he fumbles for the alarm, knocking over a lamp. The alarm does not cease when he presses it, and he simply shrugs and unplugs it. He gets up, wearing frayed boxers and socks with large toe holes and pads over to the window. Throwing open the curtains he reveals an industrial landscape with sunlight piercing through the smog. He stretches and smiles, then turns and trips over a gaunt Great Dane; stubbing his toe as he tries to avoid falling. The dog shakes itself and heavily walks to the bedroom door and proceeds to whine as the man limps to open it.
Grinning dumly the man lets the dog out the front door and follows it out. From outsidecrashing and cries can be heard and the man returns with with a newspaper, but without the Dane. In his kitchen he spreads out the paper, quickly flipping past headlines of war and murder to the comics. Craning his neck to read them he opens a series of dusty drawers and cabinets pulling out a bowl and cereal. Not looking away from the paper he opens the creaking fridge door and pulls outa gallon of orange juice, pouring it into the cereal bowl. Chuckling quietly he drags a chair across the yellowed tile and sits to read the comics. He pauses on his first bite of cereal, but shrugs and continues to eat. Outside the window, sirens, gunshots and shouts rise up as a helicopter passes, but the man shows no sign of noticing.
Once finished with the comics he throws the paper into a large pile of trash in the corner and returns to his bedroom. Throwing on a white T-shirt that promptly tears, and grabbing a pair of crumpled shorts from the floor, he enters the bathroom. The sound of running water is followed by a brief shout and the man emerges from the bathroom in soaking clothes with red skin. He stops, turns around and comes out of the bathroom again brushing his teeth with his finger while throwing a towel around his shoulders. Gollowing a thump at the front door he opens it, spitting his toothpaste into the street outside as the DAne returns covered in mud. The sobbing of a child outside can be heard as he shuts the door. Still grinning he reaches up and pulls a pair of sandles off of a slowly spinning ceiling fan and clears off pizza boxes from a cracked leather couch and reclines, putting his feet on a dull silver table covered with trash. Flippin on the TV he turns past scenes of violence and screaming men and women with a look of amused boredom. He stops on a cartoon and watches intently, occasionally guffawing. After a time his eyes grow wide and he begins to laugh until he nearly cries. Calming himself he slowly drifts to sleep while petting the Dane, grinning in his sleep as the power shuts off and a rock flies up to crack his window.