This morning, in the early hours, a strident sound brought me to the brink of quasi-consciousness, close enough that instinct took over, and my hand reached up to slap the alarm clock.
Silence.
Then the sound an instant later.
My hand, of its own volition, slaps the clock again.
A mere second of silence, then RING!
Again, slap clock, get silence.
RING!
By this time, my foggy brain realizes the phone is ringing.
I do not rise from my comfy bed to answer the blasted contraption. No, what pops into my head is a totally random thought: "It's a barbecue apocalypse!"
The answering machine kicks on, I hear my tinny recorded voice echoing down the hallway, and I roll over and go back to sleep.
So much for the apocalypse.
2 comments:
Hey, this reminds me of a few sleepy Ryan quotes such as, "The thing about Keith is he goes up there and hides under the stage" or how about, "If you strummed with your left and found the chords with your right hand, it would make set-up and tear-down much easier."
-Bubba
I laugh every time I hear those (or, in this case, read them).
Remember this stupid sleep-talk?
"I can't leave because it has ice on it."
"We have to go back to the hospital because Donny forgot his sword."
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