Can you really complain having breakfast delivered to your door every Sunday? Sheesh, Charlie was here at eight this morning, though. Maggie woke me up loudly whining and barking at his arrival. Not much is going to escape Maggie’s proximity alarm. She is especially attuned to car doors shutting.
Once I am up, then there is no going back to bed for me. I can probably take a nap this afternoon fortunately. I knew I shouldn’t have stayed up so late playing computer games. I feel zonked and bleary eyed.
“Here’s your biscuits,” Charlie said hurriedly forcing them into my hand.
Then he handed me an extra large diet Coke. It was a frenzy of activity. Charlie was a man on a mission this morning.
“I don’t mean to wake you up so early, but Horsefly is ready for bed,” Charlie told me apologizing. “He dictates the schedule.”
I told Charlie thanks and good luck at getting my father up this time of the morning. Charlie had him a sausage biscuit and his coveted senior coffee.
“I’ll honk the horn till he comes to the door,” Charlie said and he was off in a flash.
I went ahead and called my father on the house phone which its rings can wake the dead warning him that Charlie was on the way.
“Good morning and shit!” is all he sleepily said when I told him what was going on and he got off the phone.
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