Who the Hell is a “Morning Person”?

Who the hell is a “morning person”?
Is it a trait passed down the line
through the genes?
They who wake up,
look fresh,
rejuvenated,
smiling.
Heavenly.

Me,
A character from folklore,
mythology.
Twisted,
caught up –
bound in the bedclothes,
struggling free.
My eyes hurt by the light,
can’t read the time,
don’t know if I’m late or early.

Sway into walls
take rest against door frames,
battle my way to the bathroom –
an epic journey.

Stumble down the stairs.
Hate, that I didn’t clean the coffee pot
the day before.
Curse.
Wash, rinse, prepare.
Stand and wait.

As soon as the caffeine hits,
life begins to slowly seep back.
A treatment of the symptom,
but not the cause.
Could I change?

What would I have to do
to become a “morning person”,
rather than the “morning person
from Hell”
I am.

Heaven and Hell, and In-Between

Available as an ebook on Amazon.
Heaven and Hell, and In-Between

Brinkinfield’s first foray into the world of Amazon, a short story of 5,357 words split into three sections and an epilogue. This work heralds the very first introduction of Gregor Samson, a character seen in development here and set to star in a series of future, gently humorous short stories.
Within this instalment we observe Gregor as an ordinary fellow, liking nothing better than eating his dinner in front of the television with a schedule of viewing mapped out in advance. On this particular evening, he had not expected death to come upon him. In fact, he’d mistaken it for a case of bad indigestion.
As we know, death is not the end, only the beginning of a new journey. And yet, would you have ever expected the next life to be complicated and bureaucratic – that there would be a place for clipboards, lists and databases? Surely there would be no use for such things?
Well, there might be, they’re dealing with a lot of numbers.
Within these words, we follow Gregor on his other-worldly travels and share in the experience of shame, embarrassment, the fantasies and challenges he is faced with along the way.
After reading, you may ask yourself, “How would I fare, come my own day of judgement?”

amazon.com/author/brinkinfield

god’s plan

“I’m going to wipe them out for good. I’m God and My will will be done.”
“Your will will be done?”
“Oh, okay, I am God, and I will do what I like. Is that any better?”
Sat on my sofa, God had poured Himself a glass of expensive whiskey I’d been saving and begun rolling a cigarette using my tobacco.
“So, let me check I have this right, You’re going to kill all the evil people all over the world?”
“Remove,” He corrected me, “or move, if you prefer. It amounts to the same.”
“Move? Where are You going to put them?”
God winked at me, to indicate a need for patience. I sat still and watched as He ran His tongue along the gum on the cigarette paper and finished off making a pretty decent roll-up.
“Where do you think? Hell of course.”
“Isn’t that a bit drastic? What about the case for rehabilitation?”
Rehabilitation? Are you joking me?” God held the rolled cigarette upright between His thumb and index finger. Admiring the workmanship, His face beamed with satisfaction.
“Look,” I said, “I am trying to get my head around this. Let me see if I can get this straight. You, are proposing to simply click Your fingers and remove all the evil people, transferring them down to hell.”
“I could do it like that,” God replied, “if you’d like a bit of theatre.”
“But why don’t You make all the evil people good instead? Surely You have the power to do that?”
“Haven’t you heard of free will? They’d have to want to change and I can’t make them do that, but I can remove them.”
“Okay God, but what about the people living their lives close to the evil ones, like wives, mothers, children, neighbours, employees – the party faithful. Surely their absence will be noticed, how does that all get explained?”
“Angels take their places.”
Angels!” I rubbed my hand up the front of my forehead.
“There are lots in heaven believe it or not.” God raised His glass to me, before taking a sip of whiskey and smacking His lips together. “They’re often sent down, to help deal with situations, you’ll have met one or two in the past for sure. Only this time, I’m talking about a mass deployment on a scale not seen before.”
“And they’ll come down, to get rid of the evil people?”
“No, I’ll take care of that by clicking my fingers together – remember?” God looked up at the ceiling. “The angels’ role in this is to descend from heaven and take the places of the evil people. They’ll mostly look the same as the individuals they’ve replaced, perhaps smiling a bit more often than previously. They might even have a more healthy glow about them and of course, not be evil. No one will know what’s happened, but things will be different. Very different.”
“God, there have been evil people around for thousands of years, why have You waited until now?”
“Well my boy, the answer is twofold.” God blew a grey coloured ring of smoke into the air, “Firstly, I’ve been busy,” a smaller smoke ring followed, like a ghostly jellyfish propelled forward piercing through the original, “and secondly, I wanted to see if you’d sort things out yourselves, without any need for my intervention.”
“But God!” I could feel a righteous anger rising in my chest, then remembered not to swear. “Look at how much misery there has been over countless millennia. If You could have stopped evil happening whenever You wanted, at the flick of a switch,”
“Click of the fingers.” God interjected.
“Yes – yes, click of the fingers then, well – for mercy’s sake why didn’t You do so before now?”
Resembling two hairy caterpillars involved in a nasty head-on collision, God’s eyebrows furrowed. His expression suggested He wasn’t too impressed by the line of questioning I’d taken.
“Look, you need to understand, a few thousand years or so of human history amounts to a bucket full of gnat’s piss in evolutionary terms.”
“Sure, I understand, I understand.” Concerned I was risking His wrath, I assumed a more philosophical stance. “It’s just – when I think of all the cruelty dealt out, the suffering, the pain.”
“I know, I know, believe me, I know.” Sipping at the whiskey, God gently shook His head and for a moment He looked tired, frail and a little vulnerable. I felt sorrow for Him. “You realise young man, that without evil there would be no poverty, no inequality, no prejudice, no enslavement, no war.”
“It sounds idyllic.”
“It is. It’s meant to be idyllic.”
We both sat and stared into a big, fat silence.
“God?” I asked, after a few minutes.
“Yes?”
“Can I watch You snap Your fingers to make it work?”
“Click my fingers you mean?” God gave me a gentle smile, “Yes, of course.”
“What’s it going to be like, afterwards?”
“Well, it won’t be perfect, you’ll still need to work at things. But I suppose you could say I’m giving you a clean slate, a second chance.”
“I’ll never doubt you again, God.”
“Hah-harr!” God grabbed at my nose affectionately, pretending He’d whipped it off and then showed it to me, poking through two fingers of His fist.
“Hey, that’s Your thumb!” I shouted, smiling so much my cheeks immediately began to ache.
“Thank you for the roll-up, the whiskey and fine conversation.” God said.
As we both rose to stand, I wondered if God looked a little tipsy, but imagined He could probably handle His drink.
“My pleasure God, I’m really pleased we met.”
“Yes, me too. I would like to say people will believe you when you tell them this story, but I am afraid to say they most certainly will not. People have grown too cynical by far, over the last hundred years or so.”
“Well, that’s ok, know.”
“That’s the spirit!” He said, before following-up with a playful punch aimed at my ribs. Although a tad too hard for my liking, I drew upon my inner resources and maintained a pleasant smile. Call me a people pleaser, but I reckoned I owed God that one.