Permanent Leftovers

Monday, 26 August 2002

as the klaxon did its thing, the bed erupted into a flurry of fur and feath­ers. i emerged into the blar­ing half morn­ing from the con­fused ball and stum­bled over to the off switch. in the fol­low­ing si­lence i ex­am­ined my­self to en­sure that all my parts were in­tact and that my head was screwed on cor­rectly. a feather floated oh so qui­etly to the floor. later, i had an ounce or so of metal re­moved from my head and then traded pieces of pa­per with num­bers on them for other pieces of pa­per with dif­fer­ent num­bers on them. life was good un­til i hit the din­ing hall. per­ma­nent left­overs.