morning soldiers and Mr coffee, god bless him! (571 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.8 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by hungovermondays (View user info) at 2005-03-18 09:53:56 EST
Weary, old dog tired, I drag myself up, out, and at 'em for round who the fuck remembers anyway. The drips and grunts of the once white, coffee encrusted Mr. Coffee, still doing his job tirelessly and efficiently even after all these years emanates for the kitchen.
Stumbling, stupid and blind I enter the kitchen, all stained white cabinets and tile, the perfect decor for poor fashion unconscious Mr Coffee, who is just about finished brewing the morning cup of the good stuff.
Bathroom, then back to the kitchen, Killian, who was so kind to brew enough coffee that we might both drink half the pot is missing in action, another lost soldier in the battle against the morning. I open the frig, monstrous thing, filled with goodies for once and devoid of beer but complete with champagne and cheese, I find the salsa I was looking for.
Crunch munching on tortilla chips and salsa, in which, contrary to the advertisement is not hot or fresh, the absence of Killian becomes more puzzling. Not in the bathroom, quick check in living room, not outside smoking, well shit I thought, I guess he's gone so I'll have me some coffee."
Coffee in hand, standing, thinking about the girl last night, thinking that women are nice cozy things to have around, but ultimately complicated beings with dreams and desires not my own.
They always wanted to settle, or at least the ones he knew, and start "important" things like families and legitimate professions, teaching kids to "feel" their educational process, whatever that meant, and raising little children to grow up just like them.
I just want to ramble around, climb mountains, eat, drink, fuck, and write, I thought, what more noble profession is their?
"And where is Killian?" I say out loud, sounding kinda stupid I guess, but who is going to hear me?
"Uhnnnnnngh," from Killians bedroom, which I now notice is slightly ajar with one leg and filthy sock obstructing the door from closing further.
"Someone drank too much last night?" I ask the foot, knowing dam well he drank more than enough, so that he was wild drunk, funny charismatic, and uncaring last night.
"Alright you poor bastard, let me fix you some coffee." I said.
HAPPY MORNING AFTER UBER
User Reviews
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2005-04-19 13:10:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Cool.
Submitted by Chinaski (user info) at 2005-04-14 01:57:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hey, well written. good story.
we'd have fun drinking together... two wise soldiers fighting life.
Submitted by wanderingsharps (user info) at 2005-03-22 13:34:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
just got to this....
why's I got to be called Killain, homm..?
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-03-18 15:54:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/54498
Submitted by Recalcitrant (user info) at 2005-03-18 10:07:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Killian said it best.
"Uhnnnnnngh."