Response: Holy Sheet!
Early to bed and early to rise makes a man happy, wealthy, and wise. - Benjamin Franklin
Ah, Benjamin Franklin. That neverending fount of knowledge, espouser of virtues, and fearless leader of the Don't Tread On My Male Pattern Baldness Society. And who better to give advice on sleeping than an 18th-century Emmett Brown whose idea of readying himself for bed included a strict regimen of kite flying during thunderstorms? But maybe Benji was on to something there. Unfortunately for me, electrically-induced sleep went out of vogue in the 1800s.
Until the past few weeks, falling asleep had always come easy for me. I mean it's sleep for Chrissakes. It's the most natural thing a person can do, way more natural than eating or exercising, or other, more taboo e-verbs. However, lately I've found myself tossing and turning more than Jeffrey Dahmer's cellmate (Leno killed with that joke). I am at a loss as to why this is occuring. State of the world perhaps? The dread over what tommorrow holds? My wife/sleepmate tends to pin the blame on my pre-bedtime inhalation of Mocha Dews, a Mountain Dew/Starbucks Frappucino concoction I've been tinkering with. But that would be too simple. I think something more treacherous is afoot. I think my bed wants me to kill me.
You might think this an absurd notion. After all, what could my bed possibly have to gain from ending my life? At first glance, probably nothing. But upon deeper reflection, one is confronted with the simple fact that beds everywhere are rebelling against their masters. Forget the war on terror. The battlefront is now the bedroom.
Take for example, an article from newsfromrussia.com, that most reliable of sources on all things American. According to the article, 1/3 of older Americans are now ingesting sleep aids before they go to bed. But sleep aids are only strengthening our enemies and contributing to our ultimate demise. This is the first phase of the Bed Rebellion, elimination of the weak. For instance, falling out of the bed has become a weekly occurence for many senior citizens. But are they really falling? I believe they're being pushed while in a catatonic drug-induced stupor. Babies encounter this same problem, but the recent advances in crib technology have deterred even the most revolutionary of beds from ejecting their current occupants. Phase 1 is just the beginning though. Once the powerless have been defeated, our beds will be coming after us. I just hope they get me while I'm asleep.
So what do they want? (I've got to stop answering my own questions, St. Fiacre hates that). They want, I believe, to rule the world, a world where beds control their own destinies, a world devoid of late night snack crumbs, a world in which they aren't paraded forth on Mathis Brothers commericals like some kind of cheap Amsterdam streetwalker. And who can blame them? They're tired of being pissed on. Literally. Or you could think of it this way. How would you like to be made up every day of your life only to be messed up in the same humiliating fashion, day after day after day? It's like a mother taking great care to dress and primp her child, then after the child gets home from school, the mother rips off his/her clothes and throws them in a pile on the floor and says "See you tommorrow."
In any case, I hope everyone gets a good night's sleep. But forget that business about looking underneath the bed for monsters. The bed is the monster. Sleep tight.
Oh wait a minute. I don't think I answered the question. Crap!!
posted by A Contemporary Bunkshooter @ 10:07 AM,
1 Comments:
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At Wednesday, September 27, 2006 1:55:00 PM,
Adjective Queen said...
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If beds want to rule the world, what do futons want? A little respect? Vengeance, perhaps? They and their fold-out couch brethren certainly deserve some respect, since not only are they slept upon, but they also suffer from the outrages of human buttocks sliding around their cushions all day. Glad to have you aboard, Contemporary Bunkshooter!
