Morning calamity
Hearn woke up with a start, heart beating. He had scanned his surroundings before even being fully awake and came to full consciousness a few seconds later.
He used to be a heavy sleeper. “Adam Daniel Hearn, I’ll drag you out by the winch if you’re not at the table right this minute!” his mother used to shout from the downstairs. The threat of being dragged out by the small farming equipment had most probably been hyperbole. Or maybe not? It had gotten him out of bed for sure. He smiled at the memory.
Scratch, scratch, scraaatch, thud!
The sounds that had woke him up reappeared. Scratch, scratch, and then a drawn out - almost apologetic – raspy-like sound with a thud to complete the sequence. Silence for a few minutes, then it started again. Once he ascertained the sounds were exterior in origin he started to relax. Might as well get up then. He sighed and grabbed a pair of threadbare jeans and a t-shirt. The armpit sniff-test screamed “Wash me!”. He glanced at the countertop container, the water reservoir said something else entirely.
There were still at least a few more days’ worth of water, barring any hygiene-related splurges. Plenty enough to make a cup of insta though. He prepared a cup and sat down at the kitchen table, taking small sips while looking out through a soot-stained window. Dawn was painting the surrounding area with emerging sepia tinted details. Not a great view nowadays but still. Here he was, drinking coffee, looking at it. Could have been worse he supposed.
The scratchy sounds continued and he drifted off, now staring blankly out the window. He’d been doing this a lot lately. Checking out, then snapping back some unknown while later. It didn’t take much to set it off either. It was a bit worrying. At this point he probably needed something to keep an even keel. He definitely wanted something to keep an even keel. Options were limited though.
“Ow!” Hearn was abruptly pulled from his daydreaming when something hit him in the head. It looked like a spider-something – with some imagination and a dash of phobia - which made him engage in a few seconds of frantic and not so masculine windmilling of hands. Alicia was awake. Great.
“Godsdammittoallhellsfucktardwhatthefuckhearn!” Even in the best of moods Alicia did not bother overly much with punctuation or commas.
“Uhh…” Still a bit addled from the context switch and ensuing projectile drama.
“Getoutofyourfuckingheadyoufuckyoudrainedallthefuckingwaterwhatthefuckhearn!”.
Ok, insofar as creative outlet goes, Alicia’s left something to be desired. Also, Hearn sometimes questioned whether Alicia actually realises his name is not ‘Whatthefuckhearn’ but rather the shorter ‘Hearn’. Which is in no way the abbreviated form.
It takes a few seconds to parse her exclamations, especially this morning when she is even angrier than usual. Then he starts to realize what she actually had been conveying and freezes.
“Fuuuuuuck” he finally managed.
“Yeah” came the reply, terrifying in its shortness.
This was NOT a good way to start the day. And the year had already been spectacularly bad.
