The Mimic in Monsterland

“Sleep, oh how I miss you.” I groaned, opening my eyes. Soft, early-morning light slipped between the curtains, resting on the bare white walls of my bedroom. Shuffling around in my sheets, I began reaching over towards the nightstand, attempting to grab a phone that wasn’t there.

“Where?” I thought, before realizing that I must have left it out on the dinner table. And as if on cue, the 6:30 alarm, the one that was always answered with a swift snooze, blasted on the other side of the door. With the temptation of the bed’s warm embrace ever present, I got up and headed over to the door, definitely not stubbing my toe on one leg of the bed stand.

With some light (heavy) cursing, I walked into the main living area of my apartment. The space was split between the living room, dining area, and kitchen. In the living room sat a big tan leather couch covered in cracks made from use. Ideal for an afternoon nap. Across from it was a slightly scuffed brown coffee table that was a bit too big for the room and a TV stand with a modest-sized TV. Multiple game consoles line the various shelves of the TV stand, all collecting dust.

“One day…”

The alarm started playing its second verse, bringing me back to reality. An even more annoying tune. One I hardly recognized, not surprising seeing as it never played that long. I began my search for the blasted thing, a task made more difficult by the worryingly large amount of paper and books strewn across the table.

“There you are,” I said, while pulling it out from under a pile of ungraded worksheets, knocking over a half-empty glass of water in the process.

Water splashed all over the stack of graded papers I spent most of the night working on.

“Great, as if my students don’t think of me as a mess already,” I complained as I aggressively turned off the world’s stupidest alarm.

I looked at the screen, mostly covered in worthless notifications from unused apps I was too lazy to uninstall, and a few emails to breeze through later. As I scanned the screen, I noticed the blinking battery icon.

“Five percent,” I mumble, ”Sweet.” I walked back to the bedroom to put it on charge and make another realization. I left the charger in the library…. again.

“Sweeeeeet.” I sighed.

After laying out moist sheets of paper all across the apartment in the futile hope they will dry by the time I leave, I made my way to the bathroom. Turning on the shower and adjusting the water to a mostly cool temperature. I've been a fan of cool showers lately, not cold but cool, saves a couple bucks on the electric bill and helps me wake up in the morning. I step into the shower, Whoosh.

My foot slipped from under me. The only thought in my head was

“hmm not good.”

Flailing in the air, I stretched out my limbs, attempting to grab something—anything—to prevent my inevitable painful landing. When I figured all hope was lost, I prepared myself for what would most certainly be a gruesome reenactment of Humpty Dumpty. My skull being the star and center stage being the hard tile floor; I felt a soft fabric grace the palm of my hand and immediately clenched my fist.

I managed to snag the ends of a towel on the rack next to the bathtub, stopping my fall inches away from the floor. I still banged my shin on the side of the tub, but I was mostly unharmed.

“Jesus.” I breathed out in relief while lying on the cold tile, naked as a jaybird.

I closed my eyes, waiting out the adrenaline flowing through my veins. As I calmed down, I looked over to my left. The bar of soap that rocketed out of the tub and damn near spelled out my doom sitting next to me.

“Almost done in by soap, saved by a towel at the last second, a real epic tale.”

I straightened myself out and stepped into the tub, successfully this time, and began the process of cleaning myself. This “process” is more standing in the water while thinking than any actual cleaning. I stood there contemplating life and solving the mysteries of the universe as we all do while in the shower. My mind wandered to how my life ended up this way; staying up till three in the morning grading papers instead of hanging out with friends or playing games. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t say I hate my job. There are plenty of worse ways to make a living than teaching. It's the other part of the gig I didn’t much care for. When I’m not grading papers or preparing lectures, I’m working on my thesis, its deadline rapidly approaching. I shook my head, a desperate bid to physically remove the thoughts in my head. I then picked up the potential murder weapon and got to the cleaning portion of my shower.

20 minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, stopping before putting my foot down to make sure there weren't any more traps lying in wait. One brush with death was enough. I put some acceptably clean clothes on and went to the kitchen. After an unfruitful trip to the empty fridge, I grabbed a lone piece of bread, threw it in the toaster, packed up the still damp worksheets into my laptop bag, and walked out the front door. Leaving the toast.

I had that little epiphany at the bottom of the stairs of the apartment complex. “Should I go back?” I thought to myself,

“Nah too much hassle.”

I walked to the university every morning; I had a car but it was only a 15-minute walk and I was technically still a student, a grad student. Even though I taught some classes, I still needed to pay for a parking pass. And they kept jacking up the price of the pass and I’m cheap so walking it is. It only mildly sucked during the winter months. But with it being the beginning of March, the sucky morning walks were mostly over.

During the chilly trek, I found myself pondering the incident that took place in the bathroom. It’s weird how the towel rack even caught me; I’m not the smallest guy coming in at 6’ 1’’, 235 pounds. That thing was only being held up by like two screws in drywall. It should have come down with me, let alone hold my weight while I lowered myself down. Before I thought more about it, my phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. “Allie”, an awesome girl I met earlier in the year, popped up on the screen. She worked at the school, in the admissions office. We have gone on one date after I finally mustered up the courage last week and asked her out. It was fun. A smile blossomed on my face and I answered, “Hey Allie can’t talk much, phone is on the verge of death.”

“Good morning to you too. Just wanted to see how you were, make sure you didn’t oversleep, sounded like you were gonna have a late night.”

My chest swelled hearing her words. Man, I forgot how nice it was to have someone who seemed to care about you. The last relationship was a while ago, back when I was still an undergrad.

“I’m good thanks for asking, hey are we still on for,” Screech! The sounds of tires trying their hardest to stop rang in my ears, pulling my attention from the call. I looked up and then nothing.