A Red Purple And Filthy Morning

Another Day In Paradise. ..

The alarm clock blares out at 7:15 in the morning; it is a crow cawing during a symphony of sleep. I never sleep well, and hardly have pleasing dreams, but sleep is something one admires when they have nothing to look forward to in their day. I slap the switch to quiet the noise and proceed to stand up, trying to stretch the knots out of my back. My back feels like someone was giving me a massage with brass knuckles and stones.  I then fill my white mug with black coffee. The coffee is strong enough to put hair on baby’s chest, just the way I like it, black and hot. It burns my tongue as I take slurps. After my cup, I begin gathering my bathroom materials. I am out of towels, being behind on laundry. I grab a shower mat that I have yet to use.

Finishing my cup, I tiredly stumble out of my room to the community bathroom that I share with the other students in my dormitory. Setting my belongings on the bench and sink, I sluggishly begin separating what I will use during my shower and after. I set my tooth brush, mouth wash, razor, shaving soap and comb on the counter by the sink. I grab my shampoo and body wash and open the curtain to the shower. The walls are white and have a few blotches of dirt and grime from what other students have washed off of their bodies. Suddenly a vile stench of rotten pizza and spoiled milk fill my nose. The entire floor of the single person shower is covered in a thick, red, and purple puddle of gravy. Someone vomited all over a community bathroom shower.  The puddle was thick enough to hold a dime on top. Running my fingers through it would leave a trail that would hold its form.
 
           Nausea punches me in the stomach by the same fists that gave me such back pain. I rush out of the bathroom to catch my breath, trying to lose the image of this person’s half-digested, dinner. Now my state of being halfway asleep was gone, and I am wide awake. Holding my breath, I walk back in and gather my items back up. I go to the bathroom down the hall and set my belongings down on this bathrooms bench. But below the sink is a pile of black hair that is covering the floor, disallowing me to even turn on the sink. I open the curtains to the shower and check the floor first. There is no vomit, but the amount of dirt and grime is absurd. The majority of the walls and floor are not white anymore. They are yellow, brown and black.
            Turning the knob for the shower, I splash the water around the walls and floor so I won’t have to stand in someone else’s filth while I get ready for another day. I build up enough courage to step into the shower and try keeping my mind off of the bile, grime and hair that have make me regret drinking my coffee. Turning off the water and stepping out I refuse to look towards the left where the sink sits. I do not feel clean; I feel like I should have skipped my bathing and put on my clothes, never stepping inside a bathroom. I grab my towel, which is a small, cotton, shower mat and dry off. Putting on my clothes and slowly walk back to my room, I am thinking of that poor janitor who will have to clean these bathrooms. She is such a nice lady that always tells me good morning with a voice as sweet as the birds of spring, a smile big enough to make anyone feel at home. Putting my bathroom materials back into their shelf inside my wardrobe and walking out of the door, I see that poor janitor one room away from walking into the bathroom with the red and purple puke.
             Walking to class, I only grow more sad thinking that after the kind janitor is done with the puke bathroom, she will only find a bathroom full of hair and grime.

The End

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