Morning Person

Ha ha, of course! Why wouldn't I love getting cold air on my face and cigarette smoke in my eyes while you talk incessantly about television shows at six in the morning? What do you think I am, volatile?

But what I'd really like to do is have you ask me—repeatedly, if at all possible—if I'm okay. And for you to ignore whatever answer I give you and keep treating me as though I should be acting the same way as you. Boy, what a swell wake-up call!

Ooh, ooh! On second thought, could you please put your artificial banana oatmeal directly under my nose instead of a full foot away from it? That would be ideal.

Actually, just drop me off at this corner here. Or just slow down and I'll open the car and roll out and hopefully die. Thanks!