Life Has its Moments

Lateness is (In)Appropriate

The familiar sound of Mike's phone woke him up from his sleep. More like his hangover. Blindly reaching for it on the bedside drawer, he knocked it off to the ground. The phone was still ringing as he fumbled but when he grabbed it, from the floor, it stopped as if on cue.

Still lying on his stomach, he brought the phone to his face. The light emitting from the phone's screen forced him to slowly open his eyes...but just an inch.

But what displayed on the phone changed that.

8:56am!

5missed calls!

5MISSED CALLS!

FROM THE SCHOOL!

"Shit!" As if on a trampoline, Mike bounced off the bed and started searching for his clothes. He stopped for a moment as he was blinded and dazed for a minute because he got up fast.

In a minute, he had worn his jeans and Polo shirt, grabbed his toothbrush and paste and while rushing down the stairs, he brushed his teeth.

Brush in mouth, he put on his blue sneakers and hopped to the kitchen with one foot in his hands trying to force his right foot in.

When he was done with the foot part- putting on his shoes- he opened the tap in the kitchen but only a gurgling sound greeted him.

"Shit!" He cried and foam flew out of his mouth. He thought for a moment and he realized he was left with only one solution which he was reluctant to use. Milk. In his mind, he thought, No Way! But reality told him he had to.

He opened the fridge and brought out the carton of milk and was about to put it to his mouth when he sighted the bottle of scotch on the kitchen counter. Perfect, he thought, at least it will kill some bacteria.

He dropped the milk back in the fridge and when he picked the bottle, he felt how light it was. Just about two gulps left. He used it to rinse his mouth, careful not to swallow any. He had had enough last night and he was going to school this morning.

Done with everything in the house, he grabbed his car and house keys from the hall console and raced out of the house, locking it behind him.

Mrs Verne, his beautiful neighbour was just coming back from dropping her kids at school.

"Morning Mike," she called out from across the fence as she moved towards her house's front porch.

"Morning Mrs Verne," he replied back waving.

"Elise."

"Sorry," he replied back knowing what she meant. She had told him to call her Elise and not Mrs Verne as it made her feel old.

"Old? You look in your twenties!" Mike had told her once at one of their flirting sessions that took place across her little white fence.

"Oh stop it you. You flatter me," she had replied patting him on the arm but had to stop because the nosy old woman across the street was looking on intently.

This morning as he looked at her as she went into her house, he thought how beautiful she was even in her pyjamas and rough, uncombed hair. In fact, she looked like she had been dragged out of her bed by her feet by her two children and then hair-sprayed the hair so it stayed the way it was.

Other that that, Mike thought she was an absolutely gorgeous woman, average height, thin,(but not anorexic), her reddish-orange shoulder-length, wavy hair...and her astonishingly large feet... If only she were a guy. Her voice was like a song to his ears and blah blah blah.

Buuuuuut she was married with a loving husband.

Or so he thought.

As she closed the door behind her, after waving bye to her, Mike rushed off with the car from the driveway and headed for the school. But while driving, he caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirrors and he did not look good. His hair, like Mrs Verne's was not in good shape and there was dried up toothpaste by the sides of his mouth. Talk about disgusting.