Quack! Quack! Quack!
You open your eyes to the morning sun streaming through cockeyed blinds and straight into your face.
A groan escapes your lips as you pull the covers up to your ears and roll away from the blinding light.
You're not ready for it to be morning; you just went to sleep!
A tired yawn stretches your face as you recalled the previous night.
A bunch of friends met you after work and you went to that new bar with rooftop patio that everyone's been talking about.
But the watered down drinks and bass heavy music weren't worth the cover charge
so you went to a favorite watering hole where you drank some beer, played pool, drank more beer, flirted,
and drank stuff that wasn't beer. After that it all gets rather fuzzy. But you're home, safe and warm in your bed...
Your eyes snap open and you take in your surroundings; the half opened blinds on a smudged window decorated with stickers,
a striped sheet tacked over the opening to the closet that's missing a door,
and a side table made of milk cratea and a shelf from an Ikea desk while the rest of the desk sits in the corner bowing from the weight of over-priced text books.
The little, make-shift table holds your phone that's charging, and the rooms holds the aroma of old laundry and stale beer.
Yep, this is your room. With a relieved sigh you close your eyes and hope for more sleep.
Quack! Quack! Quack!
What the hell? you think. Why is there a duck in my room? You sit up and look for the offending creature,
not an easy task as the floor is strewn with laundry in various stages of cleanliness and the morning light does little to illuminate the shadowed corners.
Who thinks it funny to put waterfowl in someone's room? It's probably defecating on your laundry and eating stale cheese poofs.
Maybe it'll choke, that'll shut it up, you think sardonically. Then the thought of a decomposing duck, no, the SMELL of a decomposing duck
in your room is enough to drive you out of bed to look harder.
Quack! Quack! Quack!
WHAT THE F-!
You jump in the air as you realize the sound was right beside you.
QUACK! QUACK! QUACK!
The noise beside you, you realize, is not a duck and it's coming from your phone.
You curse silently as you recall Trenton having it yesterday with that sly smile on his face.
Now you know why he was giggling to himself. You pick it up, disconnecting it from the charger and unlock the screen;
two missed calls, three text messages.
QUACK! QUACK! QUACK!
The phone vibrates in your hand as an image of Satan drinking coffee and the word work illuminates the screen.
You contemplate the reason for them calling. Missing paperwork? Not likely. Maybe they can't find an order?
You left it with the rest, and the milk is in the cooler where it belongs. Someone didn't show up for work?
Your shoulders slump as you accept that that is the most likely reason. It's your first Saturday off in five weeks and you've already worked
thirty eight hours this week, if they need you they must be desperate. The overtime would be nice and going in would look good for a promotion
when Stacey leaves next week. But it's Saturday and you have plans you may or may not keep.
And a hangover to get over. If you answer the phone you know you won't be able to tell them no.
What do you do?
Sigh. Answer the phone; I have student loans to repay after all.
Sleep; it beckons louder than money.