Morals bend or break?

            Normally people start off their day with a cup of coffee and a nice tinkle, maybe. but for me it's the oh shit moment of not setting my alarm to pm instead of am to think I got a nightshift job and can't even set my clock right. The hardest part about my morning is really just how to turn the damn thing off without breaking it. Guess it will just have to start with me begrudgingly swinging myself out of bed with a few grunts like a baby learning how to roll over onto his stomach. Whoever decided that they would brag about air mattresses being cheaper and comfier then just buying a box spring. Ya, you've got a parking space in hell right next to me buddy and These tired eyes can't wait to meet you.

On my way to my kitchen hoping I set my coffee pot the night before. With gods luck it looked like I managed to before passing out. I still can't seem to get the right amount of grounds though cause every cup is still beyond bitter. It's basically the Ebenezer Scrooge of coffee. But it works I guess if I drink it quickly enough I shouldn't taste much right? Anyways sitting down at my dining room table so I can do my usual routine of playing phone games while downing my cup. The table is your average run of the mill four legged wooden table. But it wobbles to all hell. I can't remember if it's unfixable or if I was just too lazy to try and tighten up the screws but either way it's probably fine for now I'll worry about that later. Taking advantage of my completely spaced out attitude a familiar fluffy creature jumps into my lap. I had almost forgotten about this little rascal. This is a scruffy black cat that found out how to get into the apartment window across from the Table. The window looks out to the rusty fire escape that is basically the disney land of tetanus shots and diazepam dependence. The Cats name is tom, yeah it's a pretty bland name for a Cat but honestly what do you expect from a single guy who grew up watching Tom and Jerry with his grandparents. That and I really was too lazy to come up with a better name. Tom is a pretty soft Cat for being a stray so I really don't mind petting him he has even already started perring even though it does sound a little scratchy he isn't necessarily the embodiment of youth in a cat. I remember when i first found Tom he had snook in when i left the window open after a smoke before bed it was probably somewhere around 2am when this happened but i had rushed out of my room and into the hall because I could hear the scurrying in the kitchen as he jumped off the counter while knocking anything with any apparent value as my luck had it. I was even in my battle ready outfit of boxers and a rolled up newspaper for my disoriented state and irrational bravado of attempting to apprehend a burglar. Who truth be told ended up being a hell of a lot cuter than me which i am in no way still jealous about. But anyways in a moment of letting my guard down to this adorable trespasser i had picked him up and held him to eye level to gawk at his shiny almost emerald eyes. Which a lot like an emerald seeming sucked away any light close by and reflected it ten fold. My nose even managed to catch a whiff of dirt and musty rags from him. But before I could even dare think of cleaning him up. This scheming little demon had already out classed my newspaper in weaponry and was brandishing his talons on my face. After what felt like an eternity of coxing this cat with my leftover Chinese food and as much Neosporin as my face could handle i had finally befriended this little demon. 

Back then I guess i was more or less a bum unable to hold down a job so i guess this little guy helped me a lot made me feel a little less alone in the world you know? I had little in my heart for any human affection but here i am not known to be an animal lover but this little guy has joined my family of two. My parents died my mom was killed in a break in when i was two on Christmas morning and i had got in my head when i was young that Santa had done so because i was naughty. It took a lot of therapy to cope with that one. Figures why i never really got along with the mall Santa's even to this day. Other then them being smelly fat guys harboring on children's dreams for a couple of bucks. That and who wants to sit on some froggies lap when he reeks of cheap rum and almonds that just reeks of a lawsuit and a child's lifelong trauma in of itself. My Father all though a little sad our first meeting was at an Ihop following my mother's birthday five years after she died.  strung along with the story of how him and my mom met there and her ability to eat pancakes far outclassed his own and his feeble attempts at demonstrating the consequences of over saturating your pancakes in syrup. I mean come on he was supposed to be my dad yet in seven years of my life all he had was talks about pancakes. I hated pancakes! And I hated him. I blamed him for not protecting my mom.