Ringing. Beeping. Ah yes, my alarm clock. The only obnoxious thing in my world that exists for that exact reason and happens on a regular basis. Its small rectangular shape hides itself in the corner of the bed, awaiting that dreaded moment. How I long to smell the burning plastic arising from it. There are times I grip tightly onto its slick frame in attempts to throw it into the depths of darkness that I had slumbered within. But with every toss comes failure when its wire entangles itself with the post. I release a heavy sigh and the day continues its repetitive course. It's too bad it's not very flavorful. Even if it was a food, it would probably turn out to be black lickerish. That disgusting, smoke-like flavor. But in the end, I can't help but feel grateful for the exaggerated sound.
