I'm not nice when waking up.
Yeah, yeah, you say. Nobody is.
No, but shut up and listen for a second.
Not a good first-thing-in-the-morning person. Never have been, never will. Like, I don't just become instantly chipper. I know freaks who do, but it aint me. It takes an hour or so, after a strong cup of java, to even want to consider talking to anybody.
Ask my mother – she bitches and moans because I'm grumpy when I inconveniently have to rise in the mornings. The Ant dealt with this well, because she knew me.
But chatting brightly to me first thing, as I tumble out of bed is not always a good idea. Especially if it's intricate and detailed. It's like vocally encouraging a bomb to go off.
I will bite your head off, smallow it whole, and then spit out the sinew. At least until 10:00am.
I just can't have a conversation before I routinely do the following:
1)Engage in a morning piss
God forbid someone wakes me up before my alarm has gone off. Knocking on my door and saying, “Peas? Sorry man, did I wake you up?” isn't a great idea.
(Oh. My. God. Can it be?)
My eyes struggle to make sense of the fleshy humanoid mass standing aft of my door.
(Oh my Christ. My door. Is. Open. It opened. My. Door.)
Through the haze that is my abruptly-fucked REM sleep, I hear the garbled tones of a human voice box. It appears to be addressing me.
“Sorry to wake you, but...”
(Holy fuck. It's still talking.)
(I don't think it quite realises that the irritation I feel right now is about to kill it. “Death by Irritation” The Star front page headline looms...but the hopeful, yet sweet figure at my door fails to comprehend that just one more word, and I will eat it. Alive.)
Once my mother woke me up for a game drive at 4:00 am at the Kruger Park. What part of “I don't do the morning shift, why can't I just come on the late afternoon game drive, where I'm awake and am clutching a cold beer?” did she not fucking understand?
It was a horrible journey that taught all the chipper waker-uppers around me a heartfelt little lesson.
We saw lions copulating, which is apparently a massive talking point in game ranger circles, but all I could smell was feline guano and the familiar stench of Morning Has Broken.
I'm not good in the fucking mornings. Especially like today when I am so very hungover.