Goodbye job.

"Get up, out of that bed, now, you lazy useless stinking lump!" screams an angry hoarse voice.

Startled, confused then shocked by some stale horrendous taste, brings flashing memories, myself, dancing, flirting, basic unholy mayhem. "What on earth!, it's Sunday, my day off, go away woman for Gods sake," I bellow with painful cries.

"Your job just rang, they're going mental, missing another Monday,"  laughing she marches down stairs, "dim wit".

"Balls, not again, excuse, think boy quick, blame drink, dirty filthy alcohol, every weekend, final straw definitely, sacked," and turning  towards the sweaty pillow, silently descends back to sleep.