shhh…i’m trying to sleep

Flash Fiction – a super short story based loosely on one night not so long ago…

I’m tired.  I’m tired because I had a shitty nights’ sleep.  I had a shitty nights’ sleep because I was awoken at sparrow’s fart by a sore shoulder which turned out to be only the beginning of my first world problems…

You see it begins with the fact I’m not one of those people who toss and turn and who appears to forget that they share the bed with another person, but I will get to that in a moment.  I on the other hand, fall asleep in one position and then for several hours do not move.  Now it is my assumption – it is only an assumption because usually I am asleep, so therefore not awake and aware – that once I begin to feel uncomfortable I move position into a somewhat more comfortable position and do not wake – or if I do, I do not remember doing so.  Last night though was a whole different ballgame.

Last night I woke with a stabbing pain in my shoulder and with my eyes firmly shut and my brain in denial at being awake, I attempted to move to alleviate the pain. It was then I realised why I had not automatically moved in my sleep…I was penned into a small sliver of the bed by the one we shall henceforth call ‘the large hairy starfish’.  The immovable large hairy starfish had me cornered and my movability (is that a word…?) was hampered by a leg to the south and heavy breathing to the north.  Now I don’t know about you but personally I have trouble coping with the hot humid breath of another person, particularly when it’s aimed directly at my face.  After a few moments of quietly fuming over my predicament I found I was able to move just a fraction to relieve the pain in my shoulder, my eyes still shut, brain still in denial and refusing to look at the bedside clock, which we all know would simply be the end of any potential sleep.  But then another issue soon became apparent.

Please let me be clear, I have had two children, I know, only two, but in all fairness, they were two large babies with very large heads.  Since then I have become that person who before embarking on some great adventure has to make sure there is adequate toilet facilities.  No loos, no adventure.  The starfish will say, ‘go in the bush’ to which I reply ‘two large babies…’  Yep you guessed it my rebellious bladder had also awoken and was making itself known, painfully.  I could have just gone to the loo.  No, instead I tried to ignore the impending loss of dignity because if I had given in it would have required me to physically get out of bed, walk to the toilet, turn on a light, sit on a cold toilet seat and then that would be that.  I would be awake.  So I lay there pretending my shoulder was fine, my bladder was happy and that any minute now the hairy starfish would move.  How wrong was I?

After what seemed like hours but was probably only seconds, with a sigh and a huff – the latter aimed at the large hairy starfish for being insensible to my predicament – I gently slid out of bed, (like a fat wobbly sea cucumber, keeping with the seaside theme).  Tottered cross legged to the loo and with a clatter of the toilet lid, because some plonker had left the seat up, made it just in time.  The relief was sublime. I also took the moment to work out the kink in the shoulder (multi-tasking is my game) with a groan or two.

Just as I was exiting the toilet I came face to face with one of the aforementioned children, now a fully-grown man-child. Who squinted at me and smiled that adorable half smile so reminiscent of the hairy starfish.

“What’s going on,” he asked.

“Needed the loo,” I said, thinking it was rather obvious.

There was a pause as his grin grew wider, “I’m sorry mum for breaking your vagina.”  He gave me a half hug as we went our separate ways, him chuckling and heading to the fridge and me for once at a loss for words…and really rather awake.

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