the unusual trip

i haven't had the proper sleep last night. i went to bed early, early in the morning that is, about 3am. it was freezing. unfortunately, i again slept on the coldest part of the house, the third floor. so about 6am i could not take it longer, i went staight to cuzin's bedroom and slept. for 2 precious hours i slept soundly. but as i was beginning to dream, somebody was waking me up. it was claymarck. i could easily have one back to sleep and ignore him but he said it was urgent so i withdrew all my irk and got up. he then told me i forgot to print out another document i was typing for him last night. our pc had no working printer and the nearest cafe was about 200 meters away so i had to walk to get there and print out the documents while he was taking care of his daughter. i told him that it was still to early for any cafe to start business. still he persuaded me. it was 8am anyway so i got convinced. he said it was important for him to submit the documents because it was connected with his job. he was already dressed for work so he came along. but when we got there, the cafe i went last night was still closed. so we moved on to the other cafe a few meters away. closed again. then i told him just to go any cafe near colon or any school for sure there were cafes open at this time of the day. but he went desperate. he asked if i could go with him to colon. no way. i was wearing my sleeping clothes and i'm not going to colon without a toothbrush. still he persuaded me. so we go to colon about 15 minutes later. when we got to uc, luckily we found an open cafe just about to open. i quickly asked the cafe personnel to print out the document, to get this thing over. after that, clay and i parted. he went to work, i went to eat before going home. when got home, i slept again, with the door locked of course.

the stomach aches

Dammit, I can’t sleep. I woke up 4 a.m. due to a bad stomach and went down hurriedly to avoid a disaster. Spent some fifteen minutes sitting on the throne, contemplating, regretting why I ever slept on the coldest part of our house, the third floor. Did what was to be done, I stood up and washed and went back to bed. Thirty seconds later, I found myself climbing down the stairs, in a mid run, rushing again to the comfort room, still contemplating and regretting why I ever slept on the coldest part of our house, the third floor. I went back fifteen minutes later, feeling secure it wasn’t going to happen again. And Mother Nature just keeps on teasing me. I look out and it starts to rain. Then it starts to get very cold. Not again. My stomach starts to grumble again. God help me.
Found my self still awake an hour later. I dunno if I’m ever sleeping again. My cousin’s alarm just went off; it’s officially five 5:15 in the morning. She rises, looks around. Sees me lying on my bed, ignores me, and then searches for her towel and climbs down. Lucky her, her stomach’s not grumbling. Dammit, mine’s still is.

bee stings so bad

I got bit by something I never recognized. I was holding the gate of the back door open when suddenly something stung me on the pinky finger of the right hand. The pain was so agonizing I screamed. I looked at my finger, and saw something, some black something with white goo oozing out of its ass. I quickly snatched the wicked thing and threw it on the dusty pavement. I studied my wound, which was still stinging, and decided that looking at it would do me no good. I went back into the house, found my mom in her bedroom and asked for help. She calmly searched for her spectacles, found it in her shoulder bag, studied my wound, which was still stinging, and transformed into an inquisitor. She asked, what bit you? I replied, “no idea”. “Was it a centipede”? “Hell, no! If it were a centipede, I would be dead by now”. “Is your whole arm stinging?” “No, just the whole pinky finger.” After a few moments, she concluded. “It’s a bee that stung you”, pointing out the round wound. I looked at my wound, which was still stinging, and added. “At least I’ve experienced being bit by one”. She then opened on of her drawers, pulled out one of her weird smelling oils, applied it on the wound and transformed back into my mother. She asked, “does it still hurt?” “Yes, still.” I replied. She then stood up, walked to the door and said, “come, its dinner time”.