Thicker Than Blood

Chapter 6: Morning Routine

       After cooking myself a nice steak last night, I quickly scurried off to bed. Eager to lay my head down and let it be consumed by the softness of my pillow. As soon as my head hit its fabric, I was out.

       6:00am came around and like any other normal morning, I woke up to the head pounding noise of my alarm. After many years of waking up at this time, I still struggled to get up. Getting my body out of bed was something I needed to prepare myself self mentally for. It is the toughest part of my day. Once I have seemingly gotten myself out of bed, I make my way to the kitchen.

       I walk down the hallway as press my feet against its cold floors and its walls echo the voices within my head. Overcoming me with the feeling of being trapped within these walls with no escape in sight. I guess you could say I designed this house to have that sense to it but, I did not know it would take its toll on me.

       Entering the kitchen, the smell of fresh hot coffee overwhelms my nostrils as it rushes into them. Grabbing a tall to-go silver mug from the shelf placed above the sink and pouring the steaming hot liquid into it. Keeping it black and pure. Sealing the coffee's fait with a lid making it ready to go. Before proceeding over to the fridge and grabbing myself some delicate sliced meat, I hear voices within my head. I simply ignore them and continue to cook my meat. The butcher's in town can say what they want about their meats yet, none of theirs is as special as mine.

       Once the meat has been cooked trihourly, I place it on a plate alongside two slices of nice crispy toast smothered with some 'pure' raspberry jam. Sure, 'pure'. Nothing says "pure" than 20 grams of artificial sugar and chemically generated pectin mixed with, at most, five raspberries. But again, like always, I cannot resist the urge and proceed to use the mixture. One day, I hope to be able to make my own jelly. So good, you wouldn't believe it was all-natural sourced.

       I then grab the plate and rest it down on my kitchen table. Once again, a little voice rings out in my head. Again, I ignore it. Before I can begin to eat, I go to the front step to check for the local newspaper to see what just might be going on in little old Butte, Montana.

       As I look down at the paper, I can already read the headline: "College Student Found Mutilated in Local Cabin; New Victim of Montana Killer?" I chuckle at it.

       "Can't come up with a better name? Jeez!" Taking the paper back to the kitchen and skimming through the pages. Every single one of them filled with nothing crap about this damned country and everything we have to offer. Then, my eyes come across something interesting.

       "Oh, would you look at that, Pierre Trudeau loses against Joe Clark. Trudeau, what a stupid Canadian name. Hope I never have to see that name again."

       Finishing my breakfast, I place the single plate into the sink with a quick rinse before putting it on a drying rack. Water runs down its surface seamlessly; almost perfect. Giving me the satisfaction that it is clean and ready to be but away.

       As my food begins to digest in the inner parts of my stomach, I walk to the bathroom to enjoy a hot shower. Drenching myself in the drips that fall from the ceiling as I cover every inch of my body with Pears Soap. Making sure I get rid of any residue of dirt that may plague my skin. I like to keep myself very clean. Motioning the water towards my face and body one last time with both hands, I turn off the shower and progress to drying myself off with a fresh towel. When I am finally dried off, I reach into my closet and grab my uniform. Putting on my pants first then shirt and finally, lacing up my boots. Soon followed by a little muted voice within my head.

       Again, I bear back to the kitchen and grab my mug to which I then head out the front door. It seems as soon as I shut the door behind me, the voice disappeared. Finally, I could start my regular work day in peace.