Sour Cream

Had a bad day.

And it's getting worse. I think I just quoted Fuel.

Everyone knows the woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed bad day.

That's when you're irritable. Snappy. No one likes you. It's sudden. Unexpected.

But this is different.

You wake up. And you know it's going to be bad. Like, real bad.

This is a day that tastes bad. You know? In your mouth.
You know the food's gonna be bad. And it isn't even the food. It's just a bad taste.
Music doesn't do it either. And that's just blasphemy.

Bad things happen all day. Strange.

The highlight was me standing at the supermarket pondering over it when a board hung above. It read:

MYSOREBANANA.



Fastforward.

That was the day before. You know something I didn't know about these strange days. They don't stop.

Yep. You guessed it. Shitty again.

This one surprised me though.

I slept last night with a view that tomorrow was going to be better. That's uncharacteristic of me. I'm no optimist.

Well, hope kicked me in the nads today. Oh then it picked me up while I groaned in a surprising pang of pain and then spat angst back at my face.

Don't none of you hormonal poets take this as being a pillar of your existence. F*ck you.

This isn't a result of puberty and hormone-ridden lyrics at the back of a notebook. This is more than that.

This is the guy up there having a laugh.

Author's note: Damn his sense of humour.