Nobody Be Alarmed

5/5/06

My girlfriend's alarm clock hates me. It must. Why else would a seemingly perfectly-functioning device so maliciously fail to properly complete the one task that is its charge? He's crafty, too, that alarm clock. He knows that were he to fail to perform his duties consistently, she would simply get rid of him and purchase another, non-evil alarm clock. So what does this sentient digital monster do? Every tenth weekday or so, from his perch atop her dresser, staring down at our sleeping forms with his demonic, red eyes, he thinks, "Let's have some fun with this sack of crap," and proceeds to fuck with my mind unmercifully.

How? You may ask. Certainly not by totally failing to go off; no, no, that would be too obvious. What he does is buzz dutifully at the appointed time and I, like every other human being on the planet over the age of three, flail madly for the "snooze" button to capture at least nine more precious moments of unconsciousness before staggering into the cruel, adult world. We generally hit the snooze three times. Asshole alarm clock knows this, and so he will even take the ballsy step of going off a second time before giggling maniacally as he remains silent for round three.

I know I'm not turning off the alarm. I know this because whenever I do wake up, plunged into the ice-bath of panic at the hour, the little light indicating "alarm set" is still blazing away in his ebon face. The worst part of this whole debacle is that my lady friend has to be at work earlier than I do, so when we finally do wake up she's always the one who is late and I am still on time. Paints me as sort of an oblivious asshole who cant properly work a simple device designed to be user-friendly even to the semi-comatose, doesn't it?

Rumor has it the alarm clock never had these little mood swings before I started showing up about the place, and so I have become convinced that not only is this alarm clock definitively male and insane, he is also territorial and has decided I'm getting entirely too friendly with his owner. Who, to her undyingly wonderful credit, has yet to actually out-and-out blame me for these events. But the dickhead alarm clock is well aware that if this continues, she will eventually be so stressed out and annoyed that we'll no longer be sleeping together and once again she'll be all his. Also I'll be having less sex. What a bastard.

But I have a plan. I'm bringing in a ringer. Back at my apartment, I have a stalwart, upstanding powerhouse of an alarm clock who has yet to fail me. (Except for the times when I was in an alcohol-induced coma, but that's not really his fault.) I plan to transport my trustworthy device to her home in order to put the fear of God into that demonic little plastic bastard who mocks me. I think it will send a very clear "you are replaceable, fuck-stick," message to my nemesis.

Provided the two alarm clocks don't become friends and rise up against us or something.