So, it's been one whole day. I've never been great with schedules, so we'll see if I can maintain this pace. Especially since I might have to pump a story out tomorrow morning to keep on track. This should be interesting.
This story comes courtesy of the always fascinating mind of good friend Adrian. I would give you all a link to his twitter, or his blog, or some other online presence, but it's minimal. He's on facebook, I can tell you that much, but good luck getting in touch with that crazy character. In any case, this one just smacks of his sense of humour, and I'll try to do it justice. Last time he gave me a story idea, it became one of my favourite stories, so hopefully this one does the same. Or better, even.
The days are uncountable. I lay perfectly still, eyes clamped shut. I toss, then turn, then repeat. Sandwich break and a piss, and it’s back on the damn mattress. I don’t sleep. I can’t. I never do. So the tossing and turning is convincing. And when I go home, it’s the same thing. The boss says I can’t just lay there. This has to look honest. What do I think he’s paying me for? Obviously a ridiculous question. I’m paid to suffer. I suffer daily, and for the comfort of others. And for what? A comfy retirement. A death bed.
HEYO! Storytime over children. Off to bed. I bet this one makes you want to just curl up on your superbly comfortable mattress and go to sleep. This man clearly has a miserable existence. Too much of a good thing, and all that. But I'm ready for bed myself, so please, take a minute and enjoy. Wait, you already did. Well, whatever. Goodnight.
-V-
nothing really mattress anymore
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