Smith rolled over in bed and turned away from the window. He tried to ignore the light that streamed in through the blinds. He rarely slept later than seven on any day, but according to the clock next to the bed, it was already after ten. So what, he thought. I’ve earned it. He smiled. What a night, he mumbled to himself as his smile spread into a full grin. Maybe he would order room service. Some bacon. Some eggs. A couple of pieces of toast. He liked toast. Especially with butter on it. Lots of butter. Oh, maybe some of those little pancakes. He just loved the little ones because you could drown them in syrup. He liked syrup. Especially maple syrup. His fucking useless dirt bag slut of a mother had never made little pancakes. His smile disappeared. That fucking whore. She had never even made pancakes, the lazy fucking bitch whore slut. She had always bought that God awful frozen cardboard Eggo crap. You couldn’t toast a fucking waffle. What kind of crazy ass bullshit was that? Then the she bitch expected you to use that crap in a bottle store brand watered down syrup that tasted like pure shit. Imitation maple the label had read. He wished he had shoved a bottle of that crap down her diseased scumbag throat when he had killed the fucking whore.
He rolled over to the edge of the king size bed and tossed the cover off. Maybe a shower first, he thought. He sat up on the edge of the bed. What a night it had been. He smiled again. What a night indeed. He climbed out of bed, walked into the bathroom, and lifted the lid to the toilet. What a night. He thought as his bladder released and the stream of urine began to splatter into the basin of the commode. The first pee of the day was always the best he thought, especially on a day like today. After such a wonderful night. He could feel the tension of the world drain out of him as he urinated. What a beautiful day to be alive, he thought. He finished, shook and flushed. A quick step over to the sink and a splash of cold water on his face helped him to wake up. He dabbed his face dry with a towel, and then carefully replaced it on the rack. He looked into the mirror, and noticed his smile. Yes, it would be a great day today, he thought.
He headed out of the bathroom and walked over to the sideboard where the tiny coffee maker sat. As was a normal morning ritual for him, he dumped the old grinds into the waste basket, and took the filter basket and coffee pot to the sink to rinse them. As he waited for the water from the spigot to heat up he realized he was humming. Yes indeed. What a night. He rinsed the basket and pot, and then filled the tiny pot. And what a day it would be today. He should check his phone to see if payment had arrived yet, he thought. He poured the water into the coffee maker with a flourish. He seated the empty pot on the hot plate, placed the filter basket in its receptacle, and reached for the sealed pouch of coffee the maid had left when she had cleaned the room last. Odd, he thought. There was only one. The maid always left two bags. One regular. And one decaf. He picked up the single bag, and stared it at with confusion.
He quickly glanced around the counter top again. Maybe he had missed the other bag, he thought. He moved the coffee maker to the side, and glanced behind it. He rifled through the little basket that held the assorted sugars, sweeteners, and artificial creamers. Frantically he looked down at the floor around the counter. He began to sling open the pantry doors in his frantic search. He grabbed the handle to the single drawer and yanked the entire drawer free from the counter. The few pieces of silverware clattered to the floor. In extreme anger threw it across the room. The drawer shattered into splinters against the wall. He stood there for a moment. His breath came hard. His face flushed with hatred. His hands shook at his sides. There was no doubt. There was only one bag. And, it was decaf. The fucking bitch whore had only left him the God damned crappy ass decaf bullshit. The fucking whore. A knock came at the door of the room.
“Housekeeping.” Came a female voice from the other side of the door. He snapped his head towards the door and stared at it. The knock came again. “Housekeeping.” She said again. He watched the light on the door lock turned green. As the knob began to turn, he smiled.