Bedtime Story
Bed is sweet and safe. Warm and comfortable, too. The anxieties of a hurried and frantic flurry of daytime activity is put to rest as the weary head succumbs to the feathery down of a ticking pillow. Where else can one find repose so gentle, so eminently guaranteed as upon one's divan of nighttime bliss?
My day, Brad Jenkins mused, has been long. Too long. Too hectic. This long, hot day has already bled into the twilight of an evening that promises no relief from the unseasonable heat. Finally free of my workday's entanglements, I jump into my speedy little wheels and head down the expressway as quickly as the law and my fleeting good sense permit. Some twenty interminable minutes later, I pull up to the apartment complex I call home sweet home, grab the keys from the ignition and hop out and up the stairs by twos till I reach the entry to my castle, the fortress against the craziness of my life.
My run toward the bath is marked by a trail of sweaty clothes that still appear somewhat presentable but cling to me with way too much possessive fervor. In the shower, I don't even bother this time to adjust carefully the hot and the cold against scalding or freezing my wracked-out frame. I let a blast of cold water hit me square on the face. "Ahhhhhh ..." the shuddering but relieved cosmopolitan sighs.
After a vigorous dry up and down, I pop on a pair of shorts, grab the remote off the nightstand and dive backwards into the waiting embrace of the horizontal plane of cushy comfort and sweet dreams. Surfing through a half dozen channels or so and getting bored before I develop the usual yawn of disinterest to stifle, I click off the box, tossing the remote to the foot of the bed. I grab and fluff my pillow both ends against the now billowing middle and lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I should die ...
In his haste to hit the sheets, Brad forgot to check under the bed and in the closet....
