Awsten
You know, when I woke up on Friday morning, I wasn’t planning on a grand soul-searching Odyssey, but the world is full of surprises.
I wish it weren’t sometimes.
The alarm clock on my bedside table was making this high pitched sound, though, it had been doing that for a long while now. You see, I’d like to think I’m a realist. Realistically, there is nothing out there that could be better than this bed, the warm blankets. I wasn’t logical or coherent in the morning, so I hadn’t a clue why the alarm was going off, nor why I was being awoken by it. I looked at my curtain, which had no light pouring through it.
It was freezing outside, probably raining, too. Rain could be expected most of the summer. That was why I wanted to move south. Washington was the worst. My bed was warm and safe, so I figured I’d stay. I stared at the various markings on my window, kind of like, recalling all those stories that were washed away by more important things. I’d finished my ACT, and there wasn’t half of the built-up stress lingering over me anymore. I glanced over a scratch on my wall, the burn marks on the top of the bookshelf, the spray paint on my bed frame. I became vaguely aware that that alarm beeping was supposed to remind me to do something. Oh, right.
The alarm was telling me to get out of bed. Staring at the numbers on it, I attempted to revisit last night. I rolled over slightly, before sitting bolt upright. “Well, Shit.”
Sorry, let me restart. My name is Awsten Columbus. Renowned doodler of notebooks and shooter of zombies, et cetera. I don’t stay at my own house too much, on the account of my stepfather, and I occasionally meet up with the members of a garage band. We’re called
I stared across my room. I didn’t hear rain, which was nice. Stretching my arms way above my head, I put my clothes on over my pyjamas. “Gotta go in style, right?” I said, lifting the orange cat off of my bed. Edison mewed softly in response. I carried him across the warm, dark house to the kitchen. Gabriel was still asleep, and Mom was at work, so for now, I was alone in the living room. I opened a can of cat food and set it on the floor. Edison looked about as unprepared to be awake as I was. I poured milk into some Lucky Charms and went to find socks.
Returning to my room, I deciphered the clock, which read 7:51. Everything was harder in the morning. “Gonna be late,” I said aloud, putting my Jacket on over a button up Flannel, Putting a kettle on, and rummaging around for a pair of socks. My room was totally organised, but my life was somewhat of a mess. People always tell me that I need to get a grip. I’ll probably get around to it. Until then I was busy getting lost and being confused. I spend a lot of time forgetting and losing important things. A traditional bored 2.5 student, I passed the bathroom mirror and smiled with one corner of my mouth. Edgy. My short, grass-green hair stuck out in every direction, and my checkered red flannel was buttoned wrong.
I was able, however, to find a pair of socks. Shocking. Looks like I’m finally shaping up. I busted out onto the porch, slipping on my beat up custom-built Converse, Which had ‘COLUMBUS’ embroidered onto the side and then went back to pour the hot water over some Earl Gray. Tea was a much better morning drink than coffee. I now had about 8 minutes until class. There was no time to put a lid on the cup. I cursed myself for being so lazy.
I sprinted to my car with the tea. Expertly, I tilted the cup of tea at the correct angle, so as to avoid spilling it all over my clothes. I’d been in this position before I got as far as putting it into the cupholder, before realising I had left my keys on the table. It was an expedition, but eventually, after some honking, and tea drinking, and radio station tuning, and a little bit of speeding, I pulled into the parking lot of Kwik Trip. I refilled my tea and bought an egg roll. I would ask for an egg roll from Kwik Trip on my deathbed. I pulled out, carefully avoiding bumping into a pickup truck. Then I drove on to Rain City High School. My car was elated to shift into park.
You see, my car, aptly named “Tank” was a bit of an antique. An ancient Geo Metro with serious salt rust, and engine problems, the oil didn’t ever need to be changed, and the battery was rusted into the car. She shouldn’t have started up 2 years ago. The way I see it, she was powered by love and the human hope of the passengers not to die. Half of the frame was duct taped together, and a fair amount of the other half was lying in various ditches. It was proof that miracles really happen every time she started. I finished my tea, pocketed my keys, and ran to catch the tardy bell.
