I Will Not Get Out Of Bed

December 2, 2009
By nataliesagel BRONZE, Cincinnati, Ohio
nataliesagel BRONZE, Cincinnati, Ohio
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I don’t want to get out of bed. The covers are warm, and if I venture to stick my hand from the tepid security of my blankets, I may get frostbite. In fact, I probably will get frostbite. There’s always the chance. Therefore, I cannot move. If I do try leave my bed, I`ll probably trip as I attempt to detangle the sheets from my clammy ankles and simultaneously stand on my cold hardwood floor. As I’m sleepily dragging my feet while leaving my room, I`ll probably hit my head on the doorframe, because I`m still so disoriented from tripping and falling as I attempted to get out of bed. My mom will come upstairs because she heard the thud of my head hitting the door reverberating around the house. She will be carrying a baseball bat because she will probably think it’s a robber. Because she will think it’s a robber, she will most likely call 9-1-1. The Operator will hear the frantic tone in my mother’s voice and in all probability will send people to our house immediately. Fire trucks, police cars…maybe even the Sheriff. I am doubtless that they will all come to my house. My mom will soon see that it was only me hitting my head on the doorframe, so she will hastily attempt to call 9-1-1 back in an effort to correct her mistake. It will most likely be too late. The Firemen will be angry because while they were rushing to my house on a pointless attempt to save me and my mother from a dangerous armed robber, a real house down the road, across the street, to the left, will be burning to the ground...probably. The policemen will be angry, because as they rushed to save my mother and me from the treacherous bandit, they could have been at Dunkin Doughnuts, eating their favorite combination of Strawberry Éclairs and Triple Chocolate Frosted Doughnuts. The policeman and firemen spend so much time berating me as well as my mother for not being more careful, I will probably be late for school. As I walk into the stark grey hallways weighed down by heavy books and an even heavier attitude, it is likely that the bell will ring signifying that it is time for the student population to be in homeroom. Because I will be have to rush to homeroom to explain the circumstances of my late arrival to my teacher I will probably not have time to retrieve the books I will need for first bell which are oh so conveniently in my locker on the third floor. Because I will not have time to retrieve said books, my teacher will presumably send me to get them during the beginning of class. I will have to hike up three flights of stairs in order to reach my locker and I imagine that upon returning to class the teacher will tell me that he just gave the class a surprise test that counted as 99% of our grade. He will tell me that to pass the test; you had to be present for the class and to pass the class you had to have taken the test. Because I failed the test and therefore failed the class, he will send me to the principal’s office. The principal will spend so much time berating me for failing one of my classes that I will be late for lunch. Because I will have to skip lunch in order to make it to my Health Class on time, I will very likely be feeling sick. As soon as I enter my Health class I will probably faint from food deprivation and dehydration. Because I faint in Health class of all places, the teacher will fail me out of that class for not taking proper care of my body. I will end up, once again, in the principal’s office. He will tell me that I cannot fail two classes and will probably kick me out of the school. Because I get kicked out of school I will probably become a juvenile delinquent until I reach the age of eighteen where I will become a real delinquent. I will eventually mature past delinquency and become a hardened criminal. After robbing banks and kidnapping children I will eventually be caught and sentenced to a lifetime in jail with a bail equivalent to the national debt. I will spend the remainder of my life there and eventually die in a cold hard cell, will no friends, no family, and no high school diploma. All because I got out of bed. So you see, I simply cannot get out of bed. It is for the good of myself, my teachers, my school and my nation that I am going to look my mother straight in the eye as she comes to wake me up and say “I’m sick.”

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