Sunday Monosyllables
A moan could be faintly heard beneath a bundle of richly-coloured bedcovers, which began moving as soon as the creature beneath them stirred.
One limb had popped out from underneath, hitting a bedside table as was its custom before the rest of the body is shaken out of unconsciousness. Irene's disheveled head then surfaced out, her eyes blinking out the bleariness caused by an incredibly extended sleep.
Heh, was her brain’s monosyllable for the day. She had slept the whole Sunday off and hardly felt guilty about it.
As soon as she could recognize her surroundings, Irene slowly sat up from her bed and crawled off of it in her duck-patterned pyjamas. She pushed the bedroom door open and went on crawling on her knees around the pitch dark house until she got to the living room where she sprawled on the vast rug near the coffee table.
She yawned as she felt about the table for the Sunday paper, which she then remembered taking in that morning after she woke up like a zombie to do her morning routine and hibernated til late in the night. Her stomach growled in hunger, but she ignored it, opting to drag herself a couple of yards to haul her body up on the sofa and turn on a lamp for reading.
The room was silent except for the periodical shuffling of tabloid sheets, until a booming “Hah!” filled the house, startling a stray cat outside by the bushes. Irene was triumphantly scattering the sheets in the air, apparently in great spirits as she jumped up from her previous lethargic lounging on the sofa and hopped off towards the kitchen to whip up a midnight meal.
Irene wasn’t nominated for the pageant. Already, a new muffin recipe was forming in her mind, one completely devoid of chocolate and may or may not be named after a certain female editor at the Gazette.