It’s four in the morning and I’m still awake. I have had quite a busy day of lying around doing nothing and there just hasn’t been time to write until now. So, what’s a good four in the morning story? Let’s see here….
It was four in the morning and Martin was tossing and turning in bed. He tried to fall asleep but all he could think about was the last conversation he had had with Jessica. Was she really going to marry that one-eyed, one-armed Serbian juggler she had met at the Cirque du Soleil? Didn’t that passionate weekend in West Virginia mean anything to her?
It was four in the morning. Exactly four hours since she slammed the door in his face, rejecting his advances. Four days since he had found out that his dog had cancer. Four months since he scored a 440 on the GMAT. Four years of college spent studying his ass off and for what? He had no job, and he was still alone thanks to four different girls, who had all left him for circus folk. Four, four, four, four….
Martin imagined all the different fours floating around his head, taunting him. Suddenly they started chirping loudly. “#%$@&!” The birds had already woken up and were preparing to recommence their perpetual search for those ever elusive worms. Now how was he supposed to sleep? Sometimes he wished he could just sprout a pair of wings and fly away, leaving all of his problems behind.
He decided to go for a walk in order to clear his head. About forty minutes later, he reached the Palm Mangroves Golf Course at 44th St and Broad. Suddenly he heard a strange noise. Behind a golf cart he noticed a German Shepherd joyfully mounting a little toy poodle. Martin couldn’t help but think of Jessica and that Serbian juggler. Life just wasn’t fair.
As he pondered the inhumanity of it all, he had the faintest impression that someone was taunting him with that number again. He looked up just in time to see a white projectile zooming towards him.
They were back again, and this time he didn’t try to ignore them as they danced around his head. Four, four, four, four….
– Carlos de la Gringa