Surge

Surge by Katelin;katie LaMontagne Page A

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Authors: Katelin;katie LaMontagne
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as a rose and smelling of rich apples. I want to lean in to grab a handful of that luscious mane and take a whiff.
    It’s that urge that gets me moving. Taking a page from her book, I grab my canteen off of the table, that’s suspiciously full, get up and leave the room without responding. It’s when I hear her whisper, ‘thanks,’ that I feel like a prick, but I push through it and fall immediately unconscious in the nearest bed.
    <~~~<~~~ ~~~>~~~>

Chapter Nine:
     
    “Rise and shine,” a most unwelcome voice says. I groan and pull the blanket tighter over my head.
    “Go away, dickhead,” I mutter.
    “Nope,” the bastard refuses with a peppy pop on the ‘p.’
    Fucking morning people, they just don’t understand what it a chore it is for us normal people to not want to leave our warm beds and face the miserable sun.
    “Come on, it’s after five and we have to get moving. Daylight’s wasting. Hey, remember that song your mom used to sing?” John’s tone deaf voice grates on my nerves. “ Let’s go-o!” His emits this horrid howl that puts the wheezer’s screech to shame, but doesn’t miss a beat; even when the blanket disappears with his finisher of Johnny Cash and June Carter’s “Time’s a wastin.’”
    As I’m about to go for a low blow, I sniff something. Something that no longer exists, and is nothing more than a no good cock tease. I’m so devastated, and on the verge of tossing myself on the floor and crying out in a tantrum to end all tantrums, that I almost miss the cup John’s raising to his lips.
    “It’s a real shame you didn’t wake up in time,” he teases with a smirk. “Because you could’ve been enjoying this masterpiece, instead of me.”
    “Is that what I think it is?” My voice is a low growl, like a mother bear about to defend her cubs.
    “Um-hm,” is the smug reply. “Dunkin’ Donuts’ French vanilla, black with four sweet n’ low. Too bad this is the last cup.”
    He goes to lift the cup to his lips for another long swig, and this time, I do land the nut shot. While John drops the cup to cover his injured balls, my cat-like reflects rescue the beloved coffee before it even threatens spilling a drop. I’m inhaling the concentrated scent of a long forgotten friend, while John’s mewling on the floor, but I couldn’t care less. The bastard deserved it for coming between me and my precious coffee. Besides, he should know better. So, shame on him. The mug is drained in ten seconds flat. I’m wiping the last drops of liquid up with my fingers and shoving them in my mouth, and doesn’t that have to be the exact moment for Olivia to walk in.
    Now, this looks bad. I mean, John’s rolling around making some weird cooing noise, while I have dirty fingers shoved into my mouth; so how’s that look to an outsider? Like savages, exactly. So, you normal people out there would understand why I’m baffled when she doesn’t even batt a lash.
    “Oh good, you’re up.” Olivia says in a bland voice. “Now, let’s get moving.”
    With that, she retreats down the hallway. See, only a nutcase could treat this like its normal, everyday behavior. Either that, or she’s the freaking Terminator. Whatever the case, it gets me moving. Stepping over John’s prone body, and evading his fists along with promises of retribution, I collect my shit from the floor and head to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
    Brushing my teeth and scrubbing my face and hands with canteen water, I look semi presentable. Not that I’m trying or anything, since I didn’t even shave. I finish with a brush of my fingers through my dark brown hair. Who needs to try for bed head when you already have it? Only douchebags, that’s who.
    Besides, bloodshot blue eyes and day old sweat covered bodies do not bode well in attracting the opposite sex. Thinking of, I may have to schedule a swim in the river before letting Vanessa get under me. No, not Vanessa. Victoria. I say her name like a mental mantra

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