PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I guess it's beer for breakfast again... Yes, as a generation obsessed with alcohal, cupid's flute beckons me to consume booze, it's true... Shoot, what would you do?

The dormitory reeks of stale cigarettes and wet sex from the previous night. Sweaty G-strings and used condoms etc strewn through the room. Stunned, I barrel-roll out of bed. My blanket wraps tightly around me, and I thump against the floor. It takes a minute to wriggle free from this mummy. God it smells like shit. I walk across the room in soft, luxurious little slippers and socks kicking empty scattered aluminum crushed cans and cum-stained clothes off my path, thinking it'll end up being my job to clean all this, and open the window. I treat myself to a few deep breaths of crisp Colorado morning air. I rub my eyes while they adjust to the stark sudden sunshine, and stretch. The clocktower in the courtyard chimes noontime, vibrating through me. I am finally alive. When I turn around, my friend says, "Blurblelurblelurble," with that sorry shit-eating grin of his, like if a Picasso portrait could talk. I nod my head yes, whether he meant it or not, and commence to get ready for the long day ahead.

Once I rinse off and get dressed, donning my fringy winter coat monocle and top-hat, I skip into the kitchen quickly and throw some butter in a pan. Thought I'd whip up an omelette for us 2 dudes to split real quick. While the butter melted I went for a double shot of whiskey which leveled me out quite nicely and also put a coffee pot on. Then I thought how I should spike the coffee too. After that I'll surely be fortified for all my boring classes; easier to tolerate that way. There wasn't much in the fridge to speak of, thus a simple little thing is this omelette, consisting merely of eggs and cheese, but I pride myself on the dish regardless, having mastered the craft so perfectly, like head chef at a french buffet.

I gently flip the delicate, delicious omelette like magic then sprinkle generously with yellow cheddar, cover with lid to sizzle a minute, then when the cheese is good and gooey, slice down the center using spatula to scoop each piece like plop onto porcelain plates, garnish with salt, pepper... As I said, I'm a professional.

"BREAKFAST IS READY, BITCH!!" I scream across the small studio space to Cash top of my lungs no cap. Startled on the cozy sofa, still in the process of waking up, he freaks out with what seems a mini seizure, looks up like a dumb fucking puppy bitch, and I tip my top hat off to him, bowing slightly, as one might do silent movie wise.