• TPO

3:45 am

I have finally chilled about the Facebook bullshit and am trying to get back in bed.


I'm getting side eye, but she's pretending to be asleep. She’s got that fuck you dahlink vibe on, the one she gets when she doesn’t want to do something. I try to move her.


The instant she goes belly up I know I’m in for a fight because this is her way of saying she means business. I try to lift her.


She suddenly takes on the mass of a neutron star. This is a neat trick and if I could screw with the airlines by doing this to luggage I'd be ecstatic. She won't budge.

She instantly snaps into a Hungarian half twist belly up, and I lose my patience. I decide to use my last remaining option and I use my ass as a crowbar to slide her over far enough so I can lie down. It works, but I manage to Indian burn the soles of my feet pushing against the floor.

I remind myself that we call them bitches for a reason and pass out in gratitude that I have enough bed to lie in if I pull off my best King Tut impersonation.

I really need a bigger bed, something that outdoes king, like dictator or antichrist.


-mn

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