The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued

Page 427

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For the third time the rude, cold, plastic and metal alarm clock blared a sarcastic invitation to a supposedly new day. Its senselessly insistent mask of programmed, merciless guts was obviously not capable of taking a rather overt dismissive hint. The un-feeling little square was obviously deluded in its presumed importance. It was too dumb to realize the slow imprecision of the gaudy pronouncements. It was also to dumb for me to bother attempting to educate. Its archaic lack of foresight had led to a “reasonable” and controlled, yet ultimately imperfect depiction of what it coldly lusted after; a hope for the maintenance of its significance. The automaton sadly yearned for something eternal. I put it out of its misery and pushed the button.

I reluctantly rose. I sat up in bed afraid to meet the cold rendered by my desertion of double blankets. I did it in stages. Teddy was still fully protected under the covers, one paw on my upper thigh. My tail-less black cat of fourteen years, half eyed me as if to say; “What’s wrong with you?” I told him; “Gotta work, little man,” as I scratched his lazily craning neck.

The dismal vestiges of a “new” day had already attempted to make their presences known through the curtain-less, closed window in