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A Well-Deserved Rest
It started with the alarm clock.
I just couldn't take it. Not now, now that the sun isn't even up when the alarm goes off. I've lived through that alarm for decades now, and it just gets harder every day.
I wonder, when I first got an alarm clock as a boy, did I know what a cruel master it would become? The clock never changes, but I get older.
I lay there, and suddenly I knew; I just couldn't do it any more. Not one more day of getting up, showering, and dragging myself to work. Not one more day of putting in my time, obeying that damned clock, doing everything that my body was screaming not to do - and why? What for? Whatever it was, it couldn't be worth it.
So I lay there.
But my mind couldn't leave me alone. What about the mortgage? the bills? the repair bill for the car? Hell, what about my job?
Call in sick? But I'm out of sick time. And I know what that would lead to - a day spent worrying and feeling guilty. And it's not like I'd be able to rest; that never happens. Too many damned chores around the house. She'd never let me rest.
My god. Even here, in my house, in my own bed, I'm trapped. No control. No rest. Oh god, no rest.
What am I going to do?
I just can't do this any more. If I could run away...hell, who am I kidding? This is America. The life of a homeless wanderer is even harder than this shit of a life.
I have no options. And the goddamn clock is still beeping.
If I were dead, I wouldn't have to do this.
Wait a second...yes. Dead.
Okay! That's it. I'm dead. Very tragic; I passed away in the night. Probably my heart. Very peaceful; it must have been in my sleep. They say that's the way to go.
If they think I'm dead, they'll leave me alone. Won't they?
She stirs and nudges me. Sorry, honey, I'm dead; no more work for me. Lying here is so relaxing...it feels a lot more comfortable to be dead. Didn't I used to pretend that I was dead when I was a kid? Why did I stop?
She's waking up. Time to make it count. If I breathe very shallowly, she won't see my chest move; I know, I'm good at that. Totally limp, totally relaxed. Wait, rigor mortis? No, that doesn't last. And I doubt I could fake it. It's not like she's a doctor, anyway.
She's shaking me now. Limp, stay limp; I'm dead. I am NOT going to work again.
She's scared now, I can hear it in her voice. It's hard not to react, but - oh, shit! She's going to listen to my heart. I'm fucked.
Wait. Relax. Slow it down. Maybe if I...relax, relax. Visualize my heart slowing, pumping more gently, more quietly. Maybe...
God, this is restful. Hell, it's even fun. And cheaper than a vacation, too. I should have tried this years ago. Instead of all the driving, hotels, restaurants...some real relaxation. I love this.
Heh. Imagine the commercials. "Tired? Sick of your life? Don't travel...try being DEAD for a week! It's the rest of a lifetime!".
I crack me up.
She's on the phone. Should I worry? Screw it. I'm dead. Practice the shallow breathing, slow down, take it easy...this is easy. Amazingly easy. Maybe this is what I was born for, my one great talent. How ironic.
I think I could sleep like this. Why not? That's the point, after all. I'm so tired.
Ahhhhh...
Flowers. Must have been sleeping. I'd been dreaming about a garden of flowers, and...a giant bee? Oh no, I - wait a minute. I'm on strike, I'm dead! Whew. What a relief! But should I end it now?
People talking...the voices sound familiar. Think I'll just listen for a while.
I wonder how long I can get away with this? It's SO good to be able to rest. To have nothing to worry about. This is the life. This is the way things should be, all the time.
Slow, quiet, slow, quiet...the voices drift away, like softly buzzing honeybees in a garden...
...
Must have been asleep again. I'm getting great at being dead - this gets easier and easier. It feels funny, in a good way...like sliding back and forth between being waking and sleep. And it's got to be good for me. I really needed this rest. Hey, nothing hurts!
I suppose I should get up and let them stop worrying. Although they'll probably be upset...hell, she's probably going to hit the roof. But now I have an out - I could always just be dead again.
Better not chance it. I'll just stay this way for a while; it's not like I don't need the rest. Just a bit longer, anyway. One more week. Or two. This is just too comfortable.
What the hell. I deserve it.
I just couldn't take it. Not now, now that the sun isn't even up when the alarm goes off. I've lived through that alarm for decades now, and it just gets harder every day.
I wonder, when I first got an alarm clock as a boy, did I know what a cruel master it would become? The clock never changes, but I get older.
I lay there, and suddenly I knew; I just couldn't do it any more. Not one more day of getting up, showering, and dragging myself to work. Not one more day of putting in my time, obeying that damned clock, doing everything that my body was screaming not to do - and why? What for? Whatever it was, it couldn't be worth it.
So I lay there.
But my mind couldn't leave me alone. What about the mortgage? the bills? the repair bill for the car? Hell, what about my job?
Call in sick? But I'm out of sick time. And I know what that would lead to - a day spent worrying and feeling guilty. And it's not like I'd be able to rest; that never happens. Too many damned chores around the house. She'd never let me rest.
My god. Even here, in my house, in my own bed, I'm trapped. No control. No rest. Oh god, no rest.
What am I going to do?
I just can't do this any more. If I could run away...hell, who am I kidding? This is America. The life of a homeless wanderer is even harder than this shit of a life.
I have no options. And the goddamn clock is still beeping.
If I were dead, I wouldn't have to do this.
Wait a second...yes. Dead.
Okay! That's it. I'm dead. Very tragic; I passed away in the night. Probably my heart. Very peaceful; it must have been in my sleep. They say that's the way to go.
If they think I'm dead, they'll leave me alone. Won't they?
She stirs and nudges me. Sorry, honey, I'm dead; no more work for me. Lying here is so relaxing...it feels a lot more comfortable to be dead. Didn't I used to pretend that I was dead when I was a kid? Why did I stop?
She's waking up. Time to make it count. If I breathe very shallowly, she won't see my chest move; I know, I'm good at that. Totally limp, totally relaxed. Wait, rigor mortis? No, that doesn't last. And I doubt I could fake it. It's not like she's a doctor, anyway.
She's shaking me now. Limp, stay limp; I'm dead. I am NOT going to work again.
She's scared now, I can hear it in her voice. It's hard not to react, but - oh, shit! She's going to listen to my heart. I'm fucked.
Wait. Relax. Slow it down. Maybe if I...relax, relax. Visualize my heart slowing, pumping more gently, more quietly. Maybe...
God, this is restful. Hell, it's even fun. And cheaper than a vacation, too. I should have tried this years ago. Instead of all the driving, hotels, restaurants...some real relaxation. I love this.
Heh. Imagine the commercials. "Tired? Sick of your life? Don't travel...try being DEAD for a week! It's the rest of a lifetime!".
I crack me up.
She's on the phone. Should I worry? Screw it. I'm dead. Practice the shallow breathing, slow down, take it easy...this is easy. Amazingly easy. Maybe this is what I was born for, my one great talent. How ironic.
I think I could sleep like this. Why not? That's the point, after all. I'm so tired.
Ahhhhh...
Flowers. Must have been sleeping. I'd been dreaming about a garden of flowers, and...a giant bee? Oh no, I - wait a minute. I'm on strike, I'm dead! Whew. What a relief! But should I end it now?
People talking...the voices sound familiar. Think I'll just listen for a while.
I wonder how long I can get away with this? It's SO good to be able to rest. To have nothing to worry about. This is the life. This is the way things should be, all the time.
Slow, quiet, slow, quiet...the voices drift away, like softly buzzing honeybees in a garden...
...
Must have been asleep again. I'm getting great at being dead - this gets easier and easier. It feels funny, in a good way...like sliding back and forth between being waking and sleep. And it's got to be good for me. I really needed this rest. Hey, nothing hurts!
I suppose I should get up and let them stop worrying. Although they'll probably be upset...hell, she's probably going to hit the roof. But now I have an out - I could always just be dead again.
Better not chance it. I'll just stay this way for a while; it's not like I don't need the rest. Just a bit longer, anyway. One more week. Or two. This is just too comfortable.
What the hell. I deserve it.