Destined Fur More

Why Nature Sucks Ass

I woke up, the bright morning sun streaming through my drapes, trying to wipe any events of yesterday from my brain. If there was anything I could do well, it was wipe my brain clean of past events, or what the current ones were evolving into. I would have liked to think the sun was greeting me, but the sun usually saved itself for people who could actually get tan in it.

Yawning, I sat up in my bed, getting a leg cramp from stretching myself out. I slid out of my sheets, cradling my locked calf. I held in my gasp until the pain dissipated, afraid that maybe it wouldn't and I would have another psychotic episode where I thought I felt pain, like yesterday. But it left, like a good leg cramp, if they were such a thing.

Sliding on my slippers, I shuffled across my white carpet to my closet. I stood in front of its contents, a meager 14 shirts and 5 pants. Compared to other closets; mine was starved. I glared at my options.

Hell, it was Saturday anyway.

Picking a casual jeans and t-shirt that read, I Heart Cereal, I walked out of my room, surfing the wooden floors with my socks. Laurie, Dean, and Steven would be gone to the baseball game in Gresham, today.

I jumped the small staircase heading into the living room. But my agility was never what I though it was; I landed on all fours, unconcerned of the damage I'd done to myself this time.

I ignored the thrumming in my knees, grabbing the stereos remote, I clicked the 'On' button, turning up the volume. The Great Escape was playing as I moon-walked myself into the kitchen, singing along with melody. Or, more honestly, tripping over my socks and blaring my throat at a decibel glass would find worthy of breaking for and pitch even those people on American Idol that were really just jokes could complain about.

But nobody was home to watch the crime to nature, or see me run straight into the island counter top. So I sang my heart away. "THEY DON'T MEAN A THING, TONIIIIIIGHT!" I screamed, swinging my butt to the beat. Opening the lower cabinets with my feet, I pulled out Lucky Charms, living up to my shirt. I head-banged my way to the bowls and fridge, mixing together the concoction.

A Jonas Brother's song began sounding through the kitchen, making me gag on the soggy bits of non-marshmallow pieces in my mouth. I flipped to another station, glad to be rid of the overly-paided, Disney controlled, boy band who liked skinny jeans.

No, white skinny jeans.

Even worse.

Spooning through my cereal, making sure I had gotten every bit of marshmallow, leaving the majority of grain-enriched bits still treading milk. Once I was sure, I dumped the rejected remains into the sink.

Plopping onto the couch in the basement, I scanned through the channels, declaring today the day of shitty shows. Nothing but re-runs of T.V. Sitcom wannabes and reality-but-so-scripted shows were on.

What else could possibly be playing at eight on Saturday morning?

But I suppose this schedule for people who had social lives. People who spent all night gossiping about who they thought were SO HAWT and what Kim Kardasian wore to the Grammies.

Was she even an actress or just another heiress?

I grunted, wondering if this is what my life had watered down to. Deciding the SiFi, with its amazingly cheesy graphics and Star Wars copy-offs. Nothing like laser pistols and strange planets made of paper mache' to brighten an anti-social's life.

Sighing, I snuggled down deep into the lumpy cushions of the oriental print sofa, finding comfort in their odor of wet-dog mingled with sweat. I let myself drift from random thoughts to a sleep-hazed snore. Just as the main character in the movie was about to swing from the vines of a strange alien planets vines to save his female lover from the dreaded Lerchurn, the phone rang.