Sam

18

One Of Those Days

The sun rose and everything fell. Technically, this was Alex’s fault – he swung a little too hard, a little too clumsily for the snooze button and knocked everything off his nightstand – but who could blame him. He was still in that liminal state between slumberland and wakefulness where animal instinct holds more influence over the body’s actions than anything else. Mornings are hard. In any case, it wasn’t the mere act of knocking everything off his nightstand that seemed to distinguish today as One Of Those Days. It was the incredible improbability of how everything fell, in such perfect disarray and fantastic catastrophe, that it was something to marvel at, something to behold. It went like this: Alex’s hand, sweeping the bedside table in a desperate search for the snooze button, managed to knock every single item atop the nightstand to fall. A glass of water spilled onto the book report on the floor, which was due first period, so Alex would have no time to rewrite it before class. The alarm clock fell into the resulting puddle, short-circuiting with a sad little bzzrt, and as its power cord had been wrapped around one of the hind legs of the nightstand, it toppled over the entire bedside table. The resulting tremor, small though it was, was still enough to knock over several books (Damn, thought Alex, I knew I shouldn’t have just left those up in a domino-like configuration), which then fell, one after the other, knocking over the urn of Grandpa’s ashes that Alex had accidentally left in a precarious position on the side of the desk. It felt to the ground and shattered. All this at 7:00AM. Also, a framed picture of Alex and his late grandfather fell to the ground and cracked, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because the frame was replaceable and had no sentimental value, but it added a certain quality of insult to injury that really drove home the absurdity of Alex’s morning. Like, come on, what’re the chances? These are odds so unrealistic that you go to buy a lottery ticket but get crushed by a falling anvil on your way out the door.
Indeed, Alex remained slumped in bed, still struggling to internalize the statistical implications of the morning he had just had thrust upon him. This was the type of thing that fueled Alex’s private belief that sometimes the universe had chosen him to target for its own perverted, cosmic amusement. I mean, not even five minutes past seven, and there was already a thick paste forming on the hardwood floor where the ashes met the puddle of water. A thick paste that Alex would go on to step on as soon as he wrenched himself out of bed and onto the floor. “Wow, can this day get any worse? I mean come on! The reader doesn't even know me that well! There's no karmic justification for why any of this should be happening!” Alex whined, just breaking the fourth wall like that and oh come on Alex you can't be serious.
"What?" Alex said. "Who is this?"
You can't just go and break the fourth wall like that. It's ridiculous. It introduces a metafictional element to the story that has no business existing here.
"God?"
No.
"The Universe?"
Closer.
"Dad?"
No. And stop trying to guess. It's best if we leave this part ambiguous.
"What's happening? I'm scared."
You should be. You messed everything up.
"Mom's gonna be so mad about Grandpa's ashes!"
Yeah, you really fucked that one up, kid. That never made sense to begin with, you just having that in your room like that.
"I knoooow."
But I'll help you.
"Really? How?"
I'm going to introduce a door into this story. When you walk through this door, everything will be reverted. You will essentially travel back to the instant before you woke up. Be more careful with the alarm clock this time. And don't leave your books in a domino-like configuration leading towards your Grandpa's ashes.
"You're bringing time travel into this? Seriously?"
That little shit.
"I just feel like it's kind of a deus ex machina and the reader will totally see right through this transparent attempt at ending the story before a natural ending can occur."
No.
"Are you sure?"
Pft. Am I sure.
Alex stared at the door handle and slowly turned the knob.