Undoing a crafty aluminum lunchbox a dear friend gifted me, I took in the aroma of salty cheese crackers and smoked trout. It drew me in like a beautiful woman using the art of seduction. With red wooden chopsticks in hand, I grasped small bits of the trout and led them to my moist lips. I stole the virgin bite. Hours later, there are still scales hidden between my teeth as if they are playing hide and go seek.
In the wake of the red dawn after my well deserved slumber, my brain is telling me to rise with the rooster. My first usual routine is to ignore the rooster and place imaginary duct tape over it, but every time without fail, this routine leads to karma which seems to wake me more alarmingly than the rooster.
After I finally kick myself from the comfort of my raunchy bed, I hobble to the kitchen table and confront a blue ceramic bowl. The bowl stares right back at me, empty and infested with cobwebs. The dusty clothes I toss on my back every morning hiss at me like snakes, and even then, I never knew the color they used to be. The hat I cap the bald spot on my head with is stained of a teen prank that caused the poor thing to smell abominably of mustard and lemon. It is high tide I sit where my ass once sat every day.