Mondays

Monday morning sounds like a whip ready to scar my back. I wake up to my alarm and scream, only to realize I’m still asleep; the nightmare continues on like the TV show Friends, never ending and quickly running out of jokes that make only the Gods laugh.

Monday morning sounds like the creeper walking down the same side of the street as you, and you have to move quickly across to the other side of the street, lest you get killed, and show up on the nightly news.

It’s a dangerous world, where Mondays get you in a chokehold, not letting go for fifty years until you retire, too old to feel freedom.