But the other day I was feeling pretty super, now that my CPAP xenomorph was pumping oxygen into my brain like an oil rig raping the Hopi lands of my trachea. My sleep report that morning told me I'd had 17 hours of sleep with negative infinity events (might be wrong about that) and I felt terrific! I jumped out of bed ready to attack the day with a five-fingered death punch!
I gripped my bed post. The room was heaving. My head felt like it was filled with soup. I was sloshing around, dizzy, light-headed, and quite possibly high. But not the good kind. It was that woozy sensation you have when you're trying to figure out what goes into recycling or trash and why.
After looking around for the bong I didn't have, I made my way to the bathroom. I peed sort of funny, with the pee shooting all over the toilet and bathtub and back again.
"Ha, ha," I said, holding on to my unit for balance, "this'll make great blog material."
The walls tilted menacingly at me. I thought about going to urgent care, but then decided just to go to work. The vertiginous madcap antics of the library were sure to counteract my own whirling spirals of overwriting.
Todd greeted me. Arms crossed, he looked splenetic. "Why was I not consulted?"
I held on to a nearby chair. "What?"
"Why wasn't I consulted about taking down the paper hearts over the circ desk?"
"Sorry," I said, listing. "We all voted and decided we're against love."
"Now it looks sterile. I don't like it."
"Well, now you have a project. You can start making paper recycle cans and string them over the desk. You know, for Chinese New Year."
"Hey--" Todd looked around and then leaned forward, voice conspiratorial. "If you had a choice, who would you get rid of around here? Just one."
"You mean if we have a tribal council, and I have to vote who gets their life ended?"
"What are you two yugs yakking about?" Jonah said hegelistically.
"Just surviving the day." I smirked, and reached for the wall.
A customer came up, scattering our idleness like smoke on the water. Todd walked off, with his beard.
"Thanks for not mentioning my beard this time," he said.
"Where's the bathroom?" said the aforesaid customer.
I told the lady, who had two young muffins of rag with her. They roisteriously, riotously got on the elevator. As the lady held open the doors, she felt this was an excellent moment to start up a conversation.
"Are you married?" she shouted.
"No," I vituperated.
"Do you have kids?"
"No," I explained.
"Well, you should!" she hollered over her bellowing scalawags. "I've set up two of my friends! I could set you up, too...!"
Then the elevator closed. She came back twenty minutes later. This time she had a complaint.
"The bathrooms were impossible to find down there!"
I asked how that could be since the only thing down there were toilets and a dead spider. She winked and said how much she loved babies and asked for my eharmony handle. In my effort to politely escape, I stumbled into the floor that came up to get me.
Jonah watched me wheel drunkenly.
"What's wrong with you?"
"I'm dizzy, for some reason. I was hoping to cure it with a shot of library humor, but it hasn't worked so far. Maybe I'm getting too much sleep."
"Maybe you're sleeping like an idiot. You need a..." [cue holy music] "PURPLE MATTRESS."
"My grandma used to beat me for having a yellow mattress."
"Here, look at this," Jonah hustled. "It's the best investment you can make. Would you put a price on your health? What's in your wallet?"
"What?" I woozled.
"I bought one. Goldilocks bought one. God bought one. We all have one."
Just then the baby-makin' lady appeared. She came after me. I ran, but fell down, and then ran some more. Panting, I finally got away.
"Screw it," I yelled as I serpentined out of the building. "I'm getting a Purple Mattress!"
"Way to go, buddy!" Jonah called after me.
"You fool!" said Justron.