My Short stories - Volume 1

Good Mourning Brain

I wake up to another sunrise. Lips stuck together like glue and sticky eyes that barely open. I couldn't sleep last night. I know I had no sleep because I feel just as tired as when I went to bed. Everything annoys me 200 times more then it usually would when I've had a bad sleep. The clinging and banging of the pans from the unknown unwelcome friend of this girl I brang home with me last night, who somehow I force-fed enough alcohol to convince what I'd hoped was a she, to sleep with me. As I turned over to face away from her she lightly scratched me on the arm with her long red broken fingernail, it hurts me and annoys me. She breaths heavily and everytime the scratch throbs I feel like she is directly insulting my religion, not that i follow one. Religion is for people who need to find a way, a light at the end of the tunnel, a glimmer of hope. Hope is not what I needed or wanted, Hope is not the key to freedom, freedom comes without hope. I try to recollect what happened last night but I cant peice together much, I had a feeling it didnt go so well but I brought a girl home so I cant complain.
I have absolutely no clue as to what she looks like or what her name is. I wonder if we'd had sex and I reach down to feel I'm still wearing a condom, not filled with anything. Sex has become mediocre for me. Everytime I'm having it my mind begins a questionaire and I drift off into my own world, whats my favourite movie, favourite color, favourite book, favourite actor, career opportunities, what should I do tomorrow, Is she enjoying this, how much have I drank, have I gone soft, did she just cum, will she cum, what would be my ideal proffession, probably an actor seeing as how I'm doing it half the time anyway. It used to be so I could last longer but has now gone way beyond that. I get out of bed avoiding eye contact and pray shes still asleep. I have a shower and turn the music on so she doesnt hear me leave. I feel it's risky leaving 2 people I barely know or better yet remember in my own house alone but I'd rather have all my valuables stolen then have to experience that 10 minutes of social awkwardness that always comes with one night stand sex. I begin to cringe when I think about whether or not this girl will be a cling on. I brang her home last night because I was drunk and horny and thats as far as I wish to take it.
I'm on my way to a place about 15 minutes away to get an X-ray done on my dislocated knee. I look in almost every passing and oncoming car hoping to see somebody I know so they know I'm still alive. I see one of my best friends Norman who I have known forever. This brings back horrible memories of last night. He turns his head away from me and I feel beside myself. It was his girlfriend who I had brought home, not slept with, but the friend of the one I did sleep with & I can imagine just how it must have looked, me violently drunk taking his girlfriend and her best friend home to have some sex party that he wasnt a part of. They had been fighting all night and I was on his side until I realised I would have to change teams if I was getting any action tonight. I try to give him a sympathetic look but the lights turn green and he's gone before I can make anymore eye contact. Preppy fuck he is anyway. He'll get over it.
I arrive at the Radioligist's and talk to the girl at the counter. She is young and looks clueless, she's cute but I avoid flirting with her because shes at least 6 years younger. I dont do more then 5. One of my many 'politically correct' morals I have taken up. Before too long the radioloigist calls me through, she looks like some kind of witch off a movie like The Wizard of OZ. She tells me my pants are too tight before saying Hi and that I must take my jeans off and wear a robe. I walk into the little changing room and take off my jeans, aswell as my underwear to irritate her and make it a little more exciting for myself. She calls out "What are you doing" and I find it hard not to yell back something witty, but nothing comes to mind in time. I come out of the changing room with a twisted grin on my face and lay down on the cold plastic table. She lifts my knee adjusting it on a mat for the x-ray. I wonder if she's seen under my robe yet. This excites me. She walks out of the room and tells me to move again, this time onto my side, then she returns a second time and tells me to get on my hands and knees. I turn over and prop myself up as if I'm about to get my prostate checked. I know shes seen what I've had ready for her this time and her expression changes. Just as I wanted, she looks disgusted and I feel the latter. This is the last of the x-ray and she tells me I'm okay to leave. She walks me out and gives me an arroused grin as I pay my bill and am told when the x-rays should be ready for pickup. I no longer feel satisfied and I regret removing my underwear. I feel dirty, like some little kid who firsts hears about 'the french kiss' and slips his tongue in his Mother's mouth when she kisses him goodnight.
Next up is the Doctor's for more knee examinations. I sit in the waiting room cringing at every other sorry looking soul sitting with me, staring at me. I feel myself cringing over half the time I am out in public lately. One teenage boy wont stop looking at me and I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face everytime I turn my head. I look at him, judging him until he gets scared enough and looks away. He is dressed in a pair of faded old sweatpants and an equally as faded t-shirt boasting about how much he drinks. People with no fashion sense disgust me, If you cant present yourself nicely then what can you do. As if there mothers never taught them how to dress, tie there shoe-laces, make their lunch. Dependance appauls me. Man was made to be Independant & If you cant enjoy your own company then you cant enjoy anything. I stop and wonder how I have grown this deep hate for the world. I feel it has something to do with the way the government treats it's people, and the way weak people crumble under their government, bums, lowlifes, people who cant think for themselves and must have everything handed to them. Authority and the way they abuse their power, the way they can push us around because we aren't police. They to used to be like us. Powerless. There are a few ways I feel I get back at governemt and authourity and the powers that be. Shoplifiting being one of them. I can no longer walk inside a store without shoplifting anymore or I will leave feeling cheated. Nowhere is sacred anymore not even Salvation stores. Not as if the money really goes to charity anyway. Just back to the powers that be, the money-making masterminds behind 'Christianity'. If I cant shoplift I'll have to at least swap the tags. Its the bigger franchises I get the most satisfaction stealing from though. Wiping it right in their little faces that I didnt pay for their item they put the price up on by over 100%. Other things include graffiti, not paying taxes, avoiding fines and being unemployed for as long as I was.
I open up a copy Time magazine and begin to read an article about the movie Iron Man. Apparently it didnt get the real point of what it should have been about across. Apparently it should have been about how the war on terrorism can only be solved with the biggest and most hi-tech weapons and is basically just a big video game, but instead it was about solving conflict and cutting off arms dealers to terrorists. You'd think the dipshit editors at Mr. Big Time magazine would realise movies made about comics shouldn't be taken so literally. A baby begins to cry and for a while I hear only that. Over the loud screams and cries I hear a voice shout a name that sounds similar to mine. I look up and my short stubby asian doctor is looking at me. I follow him into his office and he asks me whats wrong with his always caring eyes.

- By Scagnetti