The struggle of getting out of bed in the morning

A narrative humor piece about what's going through my head when the alarm clock beeps at 6:00 AM.

0
83

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Bee–

Go away, alarm clock. No one likes you.

I’ve often wondered why alarm clocks even exist. They’re so obnoxious. It seems like this world would be much happier without them…

Wait, that’s genius! I should create a company that destroys alarm clocks. It’ll promote human health and mental stability. I better get on this right away. Come on, feet. You can do this.

Mmm, might as well stay here a minute. I’m in a really comfortable position.

SNOOZE.

It’s not like I’m not looking forward to the day ahead, I just feel like I should be allowed to go at my own pace, okay? I need to do what my parents and friends and teachers keep telling me to do, and they say to follow my heart and to do what makes me happy. I think they’d all be really proud right now if they found out that I was making changes in my life and they’d probably even give me a gold star for taking a step in the right direction.

SNOOZE.

Just look at me: I’m breaking all the social norms the world bombards innocent identities with, I’m carving my own pathway in this misanthropic life, and I’m even listening to the famous words of Grandma’s idol, Steven Tyler, who inspires us all to “dream on.” I’m basically an inspiration to the masses.

SNOOZE.

There are certain hours that the world is just blackened and irrelevant. Those hours are when everything dies, and only zombies are out to play. You won’t want to mess with those half-dead creatures, either, because none of us want another World War Z moment. Isn’t it obvious? Zombies, half-dead creatures, are awake in the middle of the night; I am not awake in the middle of the night. Thus, asking me to get out of bed is like asking me to rise from the dead. What kind of miracles is the world expecting me to perform next? First I had to be rich and famous, and what’s next? Miracle worker. Now I have to be a miracle worker, too. I have to raise people from the ghastly dead and that’s the only way mankind is ever going to accept me in this lifetime.

SNOOZE.

You know what, Life? Something’s about to change around here.

SNOOZE.

Last weekend, I was at the grocery store going about my normal business. I went through my checklist as I grabbed the normal items: milk, eggs, toothpaste. And then I turned down the cereal aisle. This was hard for me. All across those long stretches of bottom shelves I saw cereals I loved of all brands, flavors, and sizes. But they were all so sugary. I reached for Fruity Pebbles. I yearned for Frosted Flakes. Twice, I even squatted for Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch. But NO! I knew I needed to change. So, in what can only be described as a spiritual epiphany, I decided to tilt my head up and check out the grandma cereals. I saw all kinds of things I had never seen before! It was like the heavens opened up just for me, in that moment, and all of a sudden there were healthy options. I passed by some brands I’d never even heard of before: Raisin Bland, Rape Nuts, Gross Oats. They sounded awful. Was I supposed to start eating this stuff? What kind of a sick company would even produce such shiz? You know what, I knew it all along. It’s been all those blasted whole-grain cereal enthusiast folks this whole time… I’m looking at you KELLOGG.

But then, right as I was falling into the deep, dark abyss of pity and self-doubt, I saw a light. “Brown Sugar Life Cereal.” And just for a moment, Life, you gave me hope. But then I read the first ingredient on the little side panel under Nutrition Facts–whole wheat flour–and saw that a few inches beneath that, pretty little cursive words said: “Life is full of surprises.” WAS THIS SOME KIND OF SICK JOKE? No, no. I was not laughing with you, Life, I was laughing at you.

SNOOZE.

Lots of things like to exaggerate. People, cereals, the time on my alarm clock. But you know what’s not an exaggeration?–and this hits close to home for lots of people–murderers. They’re a problem nearly 89.3% of the time, last I checked, and that’s no laughing matter! I’m sure we all know people who have lost a family member or a loved one, and it’s hard. It’s not an easy thing to talk about. You feel like there’s an elephant in the room every time you try to say “I’m sorry” without using the words “they died,” as if the euphemistic statement “I’m sorry for your loss” can make up for the fact that someone’s loved one has actually been removed from the face of this earth.

All because of some crazy psychopath who thought it would be a good time to yank someone’s eyeballs out and poke their belly button with a machete at 4:19 AM, a child is going to have to cry themselves to sleep tonight.

4 AM people! Good things are not going on at 4 AM!

Or 6 AM, for that matter.

SNOOZE.

The only ones awake during the blackened, irrelevant hours of nighttime are serial killers. It’s a fact of life.

SNOOZE.

It’s a dangerous world out there, and my alarm clock doesn’t even seem to care about that!? It doesn’t care about my health, it doesn’t care about my happiness, it doesn’t even care about my living breath. Unbelievable.

SNOOZE.

Really, now is the time to revolt against the alarm clock industry. It’s time we kick 6 AM beeping to the curb and take matters into our own hands.

SNOOZE.

Alarm, now you’re starting to turn my own conscience against me. You disgust me. How dare you?

I’m not falling for your tricks any longer. Nope. Not today, Satan.

SNOOZE.