Partly Cloudy, 64°
Well, hi there. Long time no see. How are you? It sounds like you had quite the summer. I can’t even imagine how tired you must have been at the end of a long, hard day pushing papers and padding your resume. It must have been really cozy in that full-size Tempur-Pedic bed of yours, am I right?
Well, the party’s over, pal. You can kiss any notion of a cushy-ass mattress goodbye. From here on out, it’s just you and me in a nightly battle of man versus mattress. Mano y mattress.
I’m back and badder than ever. At this point, I’ve pretty much perfected the art of mild discomfort. I spent a whole summer dealing with those Summer@Brown kids, and let me tell you, I am already in mid-season form. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Or, in this case, weaker and less supportive. I’m a Twin XL, baby: Extra Lumpy.
You honestly think your dinky mattress pad can save you from the wrath that is my squeaky coils poking into your back? Did it help last year? That’s what I thought. And don’t try any of that Nyquil or Benadryl shit. You and I both know that that’s doping, and cheaters never win. You’ll embarrass us both.
Oh, and that girl you’ve been hooking up with since last semester? Kiss that goodbye. Actually, you can’t kiss it goodbye because she won’t want to kiss you after a night with me. I’m that uncomfortable.
It had to come to this. I don’t care if you got your first choice room in the lottery. Your great number can’t save you from the fact that I’m right here waiting for you.
You can put the pillow in the closet, but I’m the only mattress you’ve got. Welcome to discomfort city, population: you.
