by Norm De Plume
An ear splitting klaxon shattered the early morning silence.
Captain Plasma rolled over, moaned, and slapped the snooze button. Hard. After a few moments he sat up on the edge of his bed and scratched his genitals pensively.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he sighed. “It’s still dark out! Daylight Savings gets me every single goddamn time. Whoever came up with this stupid idea should be horsewhipped.”
He stumbled into the kitchen. In his weakened state, Captain Plasma couldn’t even find the strength to make fresh coffee, so he just microwaved yesterday’s dregs, hoping the radiation would kill whatever microbes had grown in the pot overnight.
“Fuck bacteria,” he explained. “And fuck whoever invented Daylight Savings, too.”