This was so much fun to write! Enjoy!
Bzzp. Bzzp. Bzzp. Bzzp. The sound of an alarm clock taunts the eyes of a Dreamer, though he was much too weary to peal open his lids. The dry noise of the alarm very slowly increased in decibel, though the walls of the Dreamer’s bedroom were equipped and sound-proofed by the many posters and sticky-notes that hung from them. The dawn crept into the room like a thief in the night, slowly illuminating the Dalmatian-patch carpet that clung to the floorboards for dear life; shabby and riddled with stains, one may not even be able to tell a stain from a patch.
Slowly but surely, the sun clambered up and up, bringing more of the heavily-cluttered room out of the darkness of twilight. Empty pizza boxes, McDonald’s Happy-Meal containers, and partially-full four-litre jugs of chocolate and strawberry milk littered the floor by the over-crowded computer desk and over-pillowed single bed on the other side of the room. Bookcases marked each corner of the living space, filled with VCR tapes and various figurines of Disney stars.
The daylight eventually filled the entire window, bouncing off of the dangling toys from the glow-in-the-dark star-clad ceiling. The Millennium Falcon and different fish from Finding Nemo were amongst the suspended objects.
Bzzp. Bzzp. Bzzp. Bzzp. Despite the radiance from the window, a shadow was steadily emerging over the unsuspecting clock. It was far too late for rescue, however; as the shadow solidified and became sharper, a gargantuan hand quaintly met it slap-dab on the head. With a mere slap afterward, the gadget was carelessly tossed into the near distance, creating quite the bustle on a stack of empty jugs. It seemed the Dreamer was not yet ready for his awakening, and five more minutes would suffice.
Alas, as many heavy-sleepers know, five minutes can turn into an hour in a mere heartbeat. And that is exactly what happened. It was back to lala-land for the Dreamer.
“Put your faith in what you most believe in…” Sang the distinct voice of Phil Collins from the bedside table, accompanied by a vibration strong enough to knock off the many tear-filled tissues (from an eventful past evening of watching ‘Up!’ Soon followed by ‘Big Hero 6’) onto the floor. A groan tumbles out of the lips of the Dreamer, perhaps the power of Collins has stirred the slumbering male?
“Two worlds… One family!” Continued the voice. As the tissues were discarded to the floor, a sticker-laden flippy-phone emerged, the likes which has never been so devoted to Mickey Mouse until now. The groan of the Dreamer soon turns into faint mumblings of the lyrics and then a long, deep breath. The drums of the song play their dramatic solo known to all children far and wide. Suddenly all of the pent-up air within the Dreamer shoots out as a belted, Tarzan-holler. Fists shoot out of the many hundreds of pillows and stuffed animals on the tiny, one-person bed, then come crashing down onto the chest of the Dreamer, where he beats away like a gorilla initiating battle!
It took a few moments for the sleepy Dreamer to figure out just where the music came from, until it hit him, the phone! Pealing back the dangling-princess-curtains from above and around his bed, the sun finally hit the master of the bedroom.
Meet Frank. Frank starts the day by asserting dominance over the sun; with the aid of his oily, pale skin, he reflects the daylight straight back up at the burning orb in the sky. The mane of curly, dark-blonde hair spanning from his neck to his head, (in that order) sprang hair by hair, one by one, out of the shine of moisture that coated his hairy hide. If a hair wasn’t there, a freckle probably took its’ place. Contrary to all of his other flattering traits, one thing that really stood out about Frank, other than his belly, was the startling green eyes that squinted with dire effort out of the fatty folds of his eyelids and high cheeks. They were almost intriguing enough to block-out the rest of his distasteful figure, alas, nobody has ever come close enough to notice.
Scrambling like a disorientated rabbit unknowing of the time (and convinced it must be late), Frank launched a hand out and wrapped his porky fingers around his comically small phone. Flipping it open with his thumb, he slaps the device to his ear.
“Hullo!?” Roars out his earthy voice, he hadn’t anticipated his throat to be so clear at this time in the morning, for he had already forgotten his Tarzan-holler just moments prior.
Before he could even hear a reply from whomever was on the other side of the phone, there came the dreaded: Bzzp. Bzzp. Bzzp. Bzzp. The alarm clock had gained second wind and was ready for round two. Frank widened his eyes as much as his pudgy face would allow, and wiggled off of the bed like a jelly-dome trying to escape its’ plate. The bed groaned and moaned; it clicked and squeaked; it sang a chorus of poorly-tuned violins until Frank was finally on his feet.
A moist, dark shadow of the man remained imprinted into the crater left in the bedsheets: as did an odorous smell akin to French cheeses. Within the very centre of said crater was a Piglet toy from Whinny the Pooh, with eyes that bulged and cried out for salvation. As if enduring reverse-rigamortis, the mattress drew in a deep breath and arranged its springs accordingly now that a great weight was no longer pressurizing them.
“Hold on a second! Hold on a second!” Cries out the man of bearded-neck, as he waddles over toward the many forsaken jugs of sugary milks. “Where are you!?” The sausage-fingers of his other hand wiggle outward to try and feel around under the stacks of plastic for the irritating noise-box. Once found, Frank’s frustration was far too high. Mercilessly, he plunges his short fingernails into the underbelly of the clock, tears out its stomach, then splays its battery-innards all over the floor. At last… Silence.
“Urh, hello!? Frank?!” Squeaks a female, New Jersey accent from within the phone. Frank was too caught up in the serenity of the slain alarm clock that he had almost forgotten someone was on the phone.
“Sorry Julie, what can I help you with?” Frank utters in a withdrawn voice. Reaching out, the heavy-set man tugs off an arm from a large Mister Potato-Head figure on his desk, and uses it to scratch his sweaty back.
“Urh, Frank. The time. I ain’t got all day.” She replies. Frank furrows his wiry eyebrows, drops his Mister Potato-Head arm, and picks up his slain alarm clock. With a growl, he slams the alarm clock back down, realizing that without batteries it couldn’t display the time (The perils of digital!) Lifting his phone from his ear for a brief moment, he waited for the light to spark up on the small, olive-coloured screen so that he could decipher the hour of day it currently was.
“Oh golly! I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m sorry Julie, I had a late night last night! There was this thing… And…” Yells Frank with an exasperated and stuttering voice, only to be cut off by Julie part-way through.
“…Two four-litres a’ chocolate and strawberry milk, extra-butter popcorn, tub a’ fudge brownie Ben n’ Jerries, a microwave bean burrito, a box a’ Kleenex, and two redbox movies, Up! And Big Hero 6. That’s what you left the store with last night, Frank. You can’t do this to me, I got five people waitin’ in line for your job, I can’t keep goin’ easy on you ‘cuz you were Sally’s kid.” Julie’s response follows with a sigh. Frank lowered his green eyes to the floor to watch his feet drag around the Dalmatian-themed carpet.
“…I’m sorry.” Came the apologetic voice of a clearly disheartened man. “…won’t happen again.”
“Mmm… mmm… alright… I… trust you… Frank.” Julie replies with a steady tone, another sigh soon follows. “You got half an hour, else I’m ringin’ up Paul to start his shift early. You and I both know he ain’t gonna be too happy about that.” Her voice was affirmative, yet still fringed with a pitiful flavour that almost felt too afraid to let the big guy down.
“Got it, chief!” Frank forces out of his lips as he makes his way over to a tripod set up near the entrance of his room. A security-grade camera seemed to be poised upon it, flashing with a red light to show it was recording. Leaning down, he squinted an eye to peep through the lens.
“Yeah yeah… Ride like the wind, bullseye…” Mutters the annoyed voice of Julie, soon followed by a long beep to signal that she had hung up. Frank pocketed his phone and fiddled with the focus on the lens of his camera.
“Ain’t gonna fool me…” He mutters to himself incoherently to the phone conversation he had just endured. The lens of the camera displayed a shelf it was pointed toward. Upon the shelf were the standard Toy Story characters. An unsettling smirk crept out onto the pasty man’s face, forcing his chin to turn into two chins, then three, then four. “Oh crap I gotta’ get ready!” What was he waiting around for? He couldn’t let Julie down a fourth time in two weeks.
[To be continued]