Monday, September 10, 2007
Alfred fell asleep in his chair, leaving the TV on. Eliza was glad of that so she wouldn't have to make excuses why he couldn't make love (if you want to call it that) to her.
The morning sun burst through the window and awoke him. He staggered into the shower, knowing that it was his only chance to get to work looking decent and on time. His boss had threatened to fire him numerous times because of his slovenly appearance and tardiness. He knew that a cat had nine lives and he wasn't as lucky as a cat.
He forgot to turn on the light in the bathroom. His head hurt from his drinking, and anyway, bright lights were not what he wanted for breakfast.
He reached to adjust the shower head and felt the rolled letter hanging from the shower. "What's this?" he said to himself.
He unrolled the letter, turned on the lights, and started reading. He then remembered that Eliza told him the night before that she was leaving him. His face turned red with anger.
"There is no way that bitch is leaving me," he said out loud, "Eliza, Eliza, come here this instant."
But the house was quiet and he figured the worst. She had left already.
He knew that he couldn't afford to lose his job, so he put the letter on the sink and went back into the shower. He knew that he'd come up with a plan to find Eliza and she'd be sorry that she had run out on him. "That bitch will never run out on me again," he muttered to himself with confidence.