The Awakening of the Middle-Aged One

Beneath city streets I slumber, in my basement apartment, as I have done since before the time of dawn.

Dreaming mad dreams of limitless, unchecked power, I await that moment when the time is right, when the portents are properly aligned, and when my alarm goes off, at which point shall I arise and unleash myself upon this helpless, unsuspecting world.

And when I do awaken, truly all will cower before me, unified in horror at the spectacle so cruelly thrust before their disbelieving eyes.

Because I do not wake up in a good mood.

And I demand my coffee…

Sunday Prompt Story: Coffee

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2011/10/02/weekly-challenge-284-coffee/

Coffee
By Christopher Munroe

I’ve had three cups today, and I’ll hit Starbucks on the way to work.

Latte, I think. Venti.

There’ll be a pot waiting when I arrive, and when it’s gone I’ll honestly try to remember to start a fresh one. It’s inconsiderate to drink it all without replacing it for my coworkers.

It’s just hard to remember things sometimes. Gets harder every day.

I hate the taste of coffee, it’s like hot tar in my mouth. But I’ll choke back as much as I can.

Because they come when I sleep, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.