What the hell? You said bedtime. You said, “Alright, time for bed, you coming, time for bed.”
You woke me up to tell me it was
time for bed.
I was sleeping.
Alright. That’s okay, you feed
me, I bought in. It’s time for bed.
While you did your toiletry I
stretched, can’t jump off the rocker cold onto the floor.
Come on, you said, as you made
your way up the hall, turning lights off behind you.
Usually I like to play the game
with you getting up onto the bed before you get your ass in it, but I was chasing
bunnies when you woke me and I actually caught one, I had to decide what to do
with it, never caught one before; that’s when you woke me. Trust me, I’ll return
the favour, just when you catch whatever it is you were chasing.
You’re in bed, under a cool sheet
and, wait, gimme a moment, you wouldn’t shut up about it, got so I memorised it,
wait, yes, I just woke up, yes: robinegg blue, cotton herringbone twill thermal
blanket.
So you beat me to bed. Your legs
are spread. I’ll sleep between them.
Aaaah.
The bed’s so much softer than the
hardwood rocker; why didn’t I fall asleep here? Oh yeah! You were watching a
film. I wanted to be near you.
Aah, this is nice.
I wonder if I’ll catch that
bunny again. Maybe I’ll get a salmon like a bear. The water rushing madly
between rocks, boulders, against my rump, salmon leaping upstream, white water
. . .
What the hell?
What the hell’s that?
You really had to disturb my
sleep to say you’re going to bed when you should have said I’m going to bed now to masturbate.
You really should have been
explicit.
Going to sleep and going to
masturbate are two different things, aren’t they?
I’m outa here.
Fucking inconsiderate human.
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