I don't like Mondays.
I don't remember why, really. Perhaps one of those traumatic childhoods people are so fond of blaming their problems on. I don't know why, I just know that I really do not like Mondays.
Sometimes I have dreams, and that's not good, either. Most of the time, the dreams are about HIM. Odi et Amo, I hate Him and yet I love Him. It lends spice to our relationship I think.
The Batman. If there's only ONE man worth my time and energy, it's Him. I think He knows how I feel about Him. I know exactly how He feels about me. It's so fun to see His reaction when He watches me work. The dark leather- or rubber, or whatever that tight little Batsuit's made of- tightening ever so slightly on His beautifully sculpted body, the light line of sweat rolling down that perfect jaw and off of His chin. He really does have a great chin. I should tell Him that next time.
Not that He'll listen. That man tries so very hard to ignore the chemistry between us. It's so very funny to see him do that, by the way. Everyone knows what's between us.
I do some of my best work on Thursdays. I really do. And HE does good work all the time, I think. But I just stink on Mondays. I prefer to stay in bed and daydream on Mondays.
But now I have someone living with me. And SHE, she has no understanding of what kind of person I am. She drags me out of bed every Monday. She is loud and obnoxious, and she's got some loud, obnoxious way of loving me.
"WAKEY WAKEY, PUDDEN!"
Today's Monday. DAMN IT ALL.
"Come on, Mistah J, I know you're awakey!"
God, if there is a God, please let that grenade launcher I stashed under the bed last week still be there. Loaded, if at all possible.
"Pudden, I know you're awake, I can see yer arm movin'!"
No such luck. The wench must have cleaned.
Just as I prepare to sit up and admit defeat to yet another Monday, the hideous girl tackles me in bed, knocking the wind out of me. It is a few seconds before I can speak again.
"HahahahahaHAHARLEY! GET THE HELL OFFA ME! Can't you see it's a MONDAY!?" I shout, pointing at the calendar on the wall. She looks at it, before turning to face me with that stupid giggle.
"Oh Mistah J, you're so funny! That calendar's from five years ago, pudden! Now let's go, the circus is in town."
I laugh at her for a moment before picking her up and throwing her out of my bedroom. Growling, I return to bed, sinking into my soft pillows and sheets with a shrill giggle as I glance at my calendar. My best work falls on a Thursday, always, but today's Monday.
I just don't like Mondays.
I don't remember why, really. Perhaps one of those traumatic childhoods people are so fond of blaming their problems on. I don't know why, I just know that I really do not like Mondays.
Sometimes I have dreams, and that's not good, either. Most of the time, the dreams are about HIM. Odi et Amo, I hate Him and yet I love Him. It lends spice to our relationship I think.
The Batman. If there's only ONE man worth my time and energy, it's Him. I think He knows how I feel about Him. I know exactly how He feels about me. It's so fun to see His reaction when He watches me work. The dark leather- or rubber, or whatever that tight little Batsuit's made of- tightening ever so slightly on His beautifully sculpted body, the light line of sweat rolling down that perfect jaw and off of His chin. He really does have a great chin. I should tell Him that next time.
Not that He'll listen. That man tries so very hard to ignore the chemistry between us. It's so very funny to see him do that, by the way. Everyone knows what's between us.
I do some of my best work on Thursdays. I really do. And HE does good work all the time, I think. But I just stink on Mondays. I prefer to stay in bed and daydream on Mondays.
But now I have someone living with me. And SHE, she has no understanding of what kind of person I am. She drags me out of bed every Monday. She is loud and obnoxious, and she's got some loud, obnoxious way of loving me.
"WAKEY WAKEY, PUDDEN!"
Today's Monday. DAMN IT ALL.
"Come on, Mistah J, I know you're awakey!"
God, if there is a God, please let that grenade launcher I stashed under the bed last week still be there. Loaded, if at all possible.
"Pudden, I know you're awake, I can see yer arm movin'!"
No such luck. The wench must have cleaned.
Just as I prepare to sit up and admit defeat to yet another Monday, the hideous girl tackles me in bed, knocking the wind out of me. It is a few seconds before I can speak again.
"HahahahahaHAHARLEY! GET THE HELL OFFA ME! Can't you see it's a MONDAY!?" I shout, pointing at the calendar on the wall. She looks at it, before turning to face me with that stupid giggle.
"Oh Mistah J, you're so funny! That calendar's from five years ago, pudden! Now let's go, the circus is in town."
I laugh at her for a moment before picking her up and throwing her out of my bedroom. Growling, I return to bed, sinking into my soft pillows and sheets with a shrill giggle as I glance at my calendar. My best work falls on a Thursday, always, but today's Monday.
I just don't like Mondays.