(no subject)
It was a hot, dark, son-of-a-bitch night. The crickets wouldn’t stop yammering, and neither would the dogs, owls, coyotes, trucks, and whatever the fuck else could make a noise. It was all I could do not to take my wife - love her very much though I do, she’s the light of my life, really - and put a bullet between her eyes just to get one god damned moment’s peace from the snoring. It was like her snores could control the weather - each one got louder than I could remember anyone snoring in my life (until the next one blew it away), and with each successively louder snore, I swear it got ten degrees hotter. It’s a good thing we didn’t have a pet, because the temptation to strangle the life out of my hunnybuns in doggy effigy might have been too great to resist.
Instead I schlepped naked into the loud night for a smoke. I’m not about to put on pants in this kind of heat unless I absolutely have to, and at two in the morning, ain’t no one gonna tell me I have to put on no fuckin’ pants to smoke. I stood on my front porch, looking out on what I could see of the motionless residential street, trying to see if I could inhale loudly enough to drown out the shrieking insectoid hell-symphony.
Each exhalation was a sigh of relief, because though the air was as stagnant and oppressive outside as in, getting away from my lovely, beautiful wife was like a cool breeze on my face. I lit a second butt off the first and sat down on the stoop wondering exactly how many bottles of what it took to get the whole neighborhood to bed tonight.
Nights like this it’s a crying fucking shame I don’t drink. No, really, I almost cried here. How the fuck can they all sleep through this? How many snoring wives and husbands are snoring next to their own vile, snoring spouse? How many of these vile, snoring, oblivious, sleeping assholes are going to wake up tomorrow perky and refreshed only to put on a coat and scarf like it was fucking December and go to work? Where the fuck do these people live?
I finished the second one and knocked off my maddened frown because my face was starting to hurt. After about twenty minutes of laying on the stoop getting more and more heavy-lidded, I talked myself into laying down on the other side of the door. Naked outside is fine at two AM, but six AM is a different story.
I lay down on the cool stone floor of our living room and took my sweet-ass time falling asleep. It didn’t even become apparent that I had until my sweet, wonderful wife ceased her trying-to-swallow-her-own-head mouth-sounds and padded downstairs to nudge me awake with her slippered foot. Either I didn’t register sleeping at all, or I dreamed about lying awake on a stone floor.
Instead I schlepped naked into the loud night for a smoke. I’m not about to put on pants in this kind of heat unless I absolutely have to, and at two in the morning, ain’t no one gonna tell me I have to put on no fuckin’ pants to smoke. I stood on my front porch, looking out on what I could see of the motionless residential street, trying to see if I could inhale loudly enough to drown out the shrieking insectoid hell-symphony.
Each exhalation was a sigh of relief, because though the air was as stagnant and oppressive outside as in, getting away from my lovely, beautiful wife was like a cool breeze on my face. I lit a second butt off the first and sat down on the stoop wondering exactly how many bottles of what it took to get the whole neighborhood to bed tonight.
Nights like this it’s a crying fucking shame I don’t drink. No, really, I almost cried here. How the fuck can they all sleep through this? How many snoring wives and husbands are snoring next to their own vile, snoring spouse? How many of these vile, snoring, oblivious, sleeping assholes are going to wake up tomorrow perky and refreshed only to put on a coat and scarf like it was fucking December and go to work? Where the fuck do these people live?
I finished the second one and knocked off my maddened frown because my face was starting to hurt. After about twenty minutes of laying on the stoop getting more and more heavy-lidded, I talked myself into laying down on the other side of the door. Naked outside is fine at two AM, but six AM is a different story.
I lay down on the cool stone floor of our living room and took my sweet-ass time falling asleep. It didn’t even become apparent that I had until my sweet, wonderful wife ceased her trying-to-swallow-her-own-head mouth-sounds and padded downstairs to nudge me awake with her slippered foot. Either I didn’t register sleeping at all, or I dreamed about lying awake on a stone floor.