The Alarm Clock

Here's the other story of Hugh's I said I'd post on Tuesday. It's a reworking of this one

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The alarm blared for three apathy filled minutes before Hugh Manatee

reluctantly rolled over to look at his alarm clock (rolling over was one of the

few things his large aquatic mammalian body did well out of water), he saw it

was 5:33 in the morning.

“Fuck,” Hugh Manatee realized that today was Saturday. Usually people

looked forward to Saturdays and all that come with them, the weekend,

sleeping in, spending time with family and friends. But Hugh Manatee was not a

person, nor was he going to sleep in, or spend time with family or friends. All

of Hugh Manatee’s family still lived in a warm river in Florida (warm rivers are

excellent homes for manatees). Hugh Manatee was not fond of Florida, and, as

he came to realize, his family.

During the holidays Hugh Manatee’s mother would write him (and every

other relative) a letter. All the letters read the same, being very generically

written. Hugh Manatee’s mother seemingly had very little time on her hands

(or rather fins) and a large amount of people to write letters to.

Dear Hugh, (every letter started very formally)

I hope that his letter finds you well. The family has been quite busy but

all is well here. Jonathan (Hugh’s younger brother) graduated high school with

honours, we are all very proud. Cindy (Hugh’s older sister) has finally happiliy

adjusted in her new home down the way, her husband and the three children

are all very happy there. Unfortunately Glen (Hugh’s Father) was hit once again

by a recklessly driven motorboat, in his old age the wounds took longer to heal,

but he says he was given a new lease on life and finds him self in his best

health in years.

We all hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Margaret

Along enclosed in each letter was a picture of the family all floating

together with mangrove roots in the background. They all looked happy (or as

happy as a manatee could look seeing how they’re not very expressive

animals).

“Fuck,” thought Hugh Manatee, as he lay awake in the early morning (as

he so often did). “I’m not lonely”, he said, in a monotone voice devoid of any

emotion, “I am happy.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” nagged his inner voice.

“Shut up!” Hugh manatee yelled in a fuck-you-you’re-not-even-fucking-real

tone into the emptiness and darkness of his single resident apartment (which

unlike warm rivers in temperate climates was not an ideal home for a

manatee).

“No” his inner voice very plainly replied.

“Fuck,” Hugh said aloud as he rolled his aquatic mammalian body over

once more to face away from the glowing numbers 6:43, which mocked him

(much like his sub-conscious).