Sunday

by raimperial

Morning. Cigarettes for breakfast. I find myself craving for liquor, but my feet are too lazy to move. This couch feels great; the tender softness I feel brushing against my back somehow calms my senses. The sun feels warm and cold at the same time. The chirping birds remind me of the beginning of a new day.

Afternoon. The ashtray is almost full. The air is hot and I feel my body dripping in cold sweat. I look at myself in the mirror and I notice that I’ve gained a considerable amount of weight. The room smells of cigarette smoke; just the way I like it. I hear my neighbours watching TV. A drama, definitely a sad drama. Nobody’s laughing. Nobody laughs at a tragic story. I guess that’s the reason why I don’t watch comedies. I hate comedies. Humour is short-lived, temporary, oftentimes a sensation forced upon oneself for immediate pleasure. Like sexually stimulating yourself to a porno magazine, but not quite close. I fall asleep on the reclining chair.

Evening. The doorbell rings and a young man greets me a wonderful evening and adds “and that would be thirty dollars, sir”. Thirty dollars for greeting me? I ask. No Sir, for that one, pointing to the box of pizza and a bag of hot sauce packets, grated cheese packets and tissue napkins he handed me not so long ago. Sorry, please wait here. I put the box on the coffee table and grab a coin purse from the room and give it to him. I tell him that there are forty-five one-dollar coins inside and he can keep the change if he wants. The purse was really heavy and I guess no delivery man likes getting a bag of coins as payment. Off he goes with a wry smile. How fake and superficial. I liked it better the other day when the KFC delivery boy came in two hours late and didn’t get any tip from me. At least he genuinely looked sad and disappointed. It was his fault anyway. Not mine.

Midnight. The weekend is finally over. It’s Monday now and I have to be at the firm in a few hours. Shirt, pants, tie, and black leather shoes. My leather suitcase. Driving my car. Taking calls, signing papers, making huge deals for people I do not even know. Meetings, presentations. Smoking at the patio on breaks. Working overtime. Getting paid. Just the way I want it.