The Sound of Orange

(Two posts in one day, and one from the elusive Joe! I know, I know, it's very exciting. Now please, calm down, I think you just tinkled on yourself a little. This is a portfolio writing from my composition class that Jamie has been bugging me to post.)

Based on a True Story

Soft. Warm. Comfortable. Snuggled deep into an overstuffed king-size goose down comforter, contentedly sleeping away the last few minutes of my blissful slumber. The past twenty minutes of “Joey get up!” have done their job and chiseled away at my unconscious mind until I groggily mutter something along the lines of “…need more sleep.” Now, the beautiful woman I love and adore who has birthed the most gorgeous little girl and tolerated my sloth for the better part of a decade, is running late this morning. I, who really should have been up twenty minutes ago, am slightly behind schedule as well.
SHREIK!! I snap to full consciousness as my lovely wife, who is one of the most talented sopranos I have ever heard, wails in a voice with pitch and tone that would make a dog uncontrollably wet itself and would make a banshee weep, “You have to leave in ten minutes!” As I hurriedly dress her voice continues to erode even the faintest memory of the pleasantness I was enjoying just seconds ago. I take a moment to clear the cobwebs from my disoriented mind, but this disembodied voice that is following my wonderful spouse is relentless, and if not for the accompaniment of occasional dirty looks to punctuate her complaints, it would be difficult to convince me that it is my wife actually speaking. It is at this point that I inform her that again I will not be keeping our standing lunch date in lieu of a much needed nap.
The destruction of Pompeii at the hands of Mt. Vesuvius pales in comparison to the explosive tirade launched at me. I know you’ve heard all the rumors and myths about redheads, but let me tell you that the reality is far, far scarier. I ended up keeping our lunch date.