Barry Bonds
I was once again awoken by Kanye West. Not in person thank God, I would hate to open my eyes to a tall handsome black man wearing a “Make America Great Again” hat smiling down at me talking about how he can see music. However, I do use his song “Barry Bonds” as an alarm clock because hearing complete garbage is the best way to wake up. Most days before I regain consciousness I can hear the song in the distance of my dream. At first I dance along to it, usually standing alone in a long dark hallway with a spot light on me. As if I was performing a solo dance routine at Julliard. Moving my hips and snapping my fingers, almost enjoying it. Feeling a sense of calmness that I never feel when I am awake, no longer riddled with anxiety. Once I became aware of this in my dream I find myself running away from the music; the calmness replaced by fear. Feeling as if I am on a treadmill, no matter how fast I run I can’t get away.
“Coming in the club with that fresh shit on with something crazy on my arm Uh-uh-hum, and here’s another hit, Barry Bonds.”
The hallway gets smaller, closing in on me from behind and side to side. As I run I notice ahead of me a red light appear. The color, as dark as fresh blood Flashes, almost taunting me. The walls and sealing start to cave in, crumbling. Making me feeling like some sort of horrified Indiana Jones.
The door behind me turns into an empty dark hole almost like a vacuum into nothingness as I try to escape.
“and here’s another hit, Barry Bonds and here’s another hit, Barry Bonds and here’s another hit, Barry Bonds.”
Suddenly, it isn’t Kanye’s voice. It’s Morgan Freeman's’, he repeats the lyrics in such a violent tone that I piss my pants. As I look back towards the black hole I realize it is no longer there. It has been replaced by Morgan Freeman’s face. A sadistic look in his eyes, razor sharp teeth and blood pouring out of his nose. I close my eyes and run diving ahead to try and avoid being swallowed alive by Morgan Freeman’s stupid ugly mouth.
When I opened my eyes I was in my bed, I’m pretty sure I’m awake I thought. Seeing how I am now hearing the shitty song “Barry Bonds”, coming from my phone. I reach over to turn the alarm off, knocking my phone off of the nightstand with my half asleep attempt. Losing it behind my bed.
“Goddamnit!”
I take a deep breath, find my phone and turn the alarm off. I have to change that song, I thought.
I grab a half smoked cigarette from the ashtray that I had put out late last night.
“Why the hell do I keep having this dream about Morgan fucking Freeman and why did that give me an erection?”
I light the cigarette and lay back down with my arms behind my head. I thought to myself; another fucking day, but hey at least it’s Sunday.
with the last puff of my cigarette I try to perfect a smoke ring. I still suck at this, I thought. My mouth was dry and I had a killer hangover from the cheap Merlot I was sipping on the night before. I stayed up late playing Chess on my computer, again. I looked around for something to drink other than the wine; preferably a bottle of water because unlike most alcoholics I don’t like to hit the bottle first thing in the morning. Not a goddamn drop anywhere. I grab the bottle of cheap wine and shake my head angrily as I take a sip.
“Just go to the fucking store and get a case of water you fucking idiot.”
I sigh with frustration and put my feet on the ground. I reach my arms to the sky in a deep stretch. Releasing the most aggressive yawn you’ve probably ever heard. I stand up, scratch my balls and think to myself, Today is going to be a great day.
I skipped my shower, I don’t smell that bad, I thought to myself. Worse case scenario I’ll walk around smelling like a french woman. Not that I know what french women smell like, I haven’t exactly ventured out of the Midwest let alone the country. However, I assume it’s like a musty Parmesan cheese. I ran out of deodorant weeks ago and I continuously forget to pick some up almost on purpose, or maybe not on purpose but more in the way that I don’t really give a fuck. So I threw on some sweatpants that I turned into shorts with some cooking scissors. Accompanied by a plain white tee. That’s my signature wardrobe as long as the weather allows it. I put my favorite hat on that says, “Life’s Hard” to cover up my somewhat greasy hair. I saw the hat at a flea market and had to have it. I’m at that stage where I should clean myself up but it’s not overly obvious that I’m a sack of shit. I grab my skateboard and get ready to head to the coffee shop to grab my Sunday morning serotonin boost. Before I leave I put my headphones in and sing as loud as I can because why the fuck not.
“I crash, you crash, you were the one I told myself I don’t even know myself….”
“I’m getting a fuckin’ bagel today.”
