Monday, January 16, 2017

Morning Creeps In

Morning Creeps In
by Joel Haas

Morning oozed in under the door and squeezed through the cracks in the blinds.
I secretly watched, one eye barely open.
Morning was trying to be quiet-and doing a pretty good job of it.
I knew it was headed toward the mirror on the far wall where it would bounce around like an over sugared four year old and be impossible to ignore.
“I see you watching me,” Morning whispered.
“Aren’t you a little early?” I croaked.
“I’m Morning !  I’m always early!” Morning almost stamped its foot. “If I weren’t early, I’d wouldn’t be right on time!”
“Oormph..” was all I could muster against this sort of logic.
“Speaking of which,” Morning teased sarcastically, “You will be late soon.”
“Besides bouncing on the mirror, what else do you want?”
“Let’s go for a walk!”  Morning bounced right where it was; about three feet short of the mirror. 
“It’s too cold,” I grumped in reply.
“I’ll warm up..” Morning whined.  “I promise!”
“You won’t suddenly throw a tantrum and snow on me?” I wasn’t really enthusiastic about leaving a warm bed. 
“It’s June!” Morning shouted. “I only do that when I am in southern Tasmania—which you are not.”
“Thanks be to God,” I mumbled.
“I heard that!” Morning gloated. “What are you?—Anti-Podean?”
“No,” I answered, “I’m Anti-Pundian.”
“Volley and return’” Morning grudgingly admitted.
“I don’t want to get up!” I did my best to sound firm and commanding in a manner brooking no contradiction.
“You have to!” Morning almost screamed. “You’ll be late for church !”
“It’s not Sunday,” I countered.  This had happened a few times before, Morning not being able to keep up with its calendar. 
“Worse !!!” Morning sounded genuinely panicked.
“It’s not Monday,”  I tried not to sound triumphant.
“Oooooh!!..You’ve missed an entire day of work!”  Morning was hysterical.
“It’s not Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday.”
Morning went pale gray with fright and worry now.
“And it’s not Friday,” I finally added. 
At this, Morning brightened considerably.
“So.  It must be Saturday,” Morning squeaked, relieved.  Resuming its over sugared four year old persona, Morning stuck out its tongue. “You’ll miss Sunrise Horror and all the cartoons on Channel Six!”   Morning was so happy to have uttered what it thought was a credible threat.
Alarmed at first, I relaxed.  “You’re fifty years behind times.  I can watch any cartoon or movie I want to.”
Morning frowned.  “I slipped my calendar pretty bad, didn’t I?” Morning looked very disturbed now. “Fifty years?!”
“No,” I reassured, “You just don’t stay informed .  You really just got the day of the week mixed up.”
At that, Morning was so relieved it hit the mirror and bounced gloriously all over the room. 
“You’ll hit your head bouncing so high!” I warned.
“No, I won’t!” Morning was definitely back in its four-year old persona.
“You don’t have a helmet or knee pads!” 
“So what?  I never do.” Morning bounced higher and nearly hit the ceiling fan. 
“Don’t get caught in the ceiling fan again!” I pleaded.  “The last time you got dizzy and nauseated and threw up”
“I never throw up,” Morning answered.  “And you can’t tell me what to do!  You’re not the boss of me!” 
Sure enough, two seconds later, Morning got tangled in the ceiling fan blades.  It wasn’t the around and around that made Morning so sick, I knew.  Seeing itself strobe 30 times a minute in an infinity of mirrors on the far wall is what did it.
A pinch of vindictiveness or revenge always makes the ice cream of forgiveness go down better, I have found. I let Morning keep twirling in the fan blades a few  minutes. 
Then, I pushed off the covers and stumbled over to the far wall switch and turned off the fan.
When the fan stopped, Morning caught its breath.  “That…that…” Morning was still dizzy and disoriented.  “That was just in time.”
“Well, I’m up now!” I was truly annoyed and did not hide it.
“Okay,” Morning tried to steady itself on a curtain rod.  “My work’s done here.  On to the next house.”
Still dizzy, Morning stumbled towards the window it came through. 
“Wait!” I shouted.  “That’s the wrong direction!  That’s east!  You came in that way!” 
Morning turned, blinking at me in confusion.
I bit out the words, “It will be very inconvenient today if you suddenly start to come from the west and reverse Earth’s spin.”  Offering a still unsteady Morning my arm to lean on, I gestured down the hall.  “This way. You’re supposed to leave through the kitchen window.”
“Right,” Morning gulped like a drunk sobering up.  “Kitchen window.”
“Come on,” I pulled gently.  “I’m going that way myself to make coffee.”

The End

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