Mornin!

The phone's ring forces tired eyes open, a sore neck bends and a creeping hand levitates toward the receiver. Neck turns back to resting position, eyes focused on a pseudo-stucco ceiling, the receiver pushes shoulder length matted hair out of the way to make connection with a tinnitus stricken canal. "hello."
"This is a call for CHRIS MAXLEY... if this is not CHRIS MAXLEY please hang up the phone and dial 1-708-455-4008 to report misinformation..." a computerized voice sputters in sporadic syllables "This is a call for CHRIS MAXLEY if you are not CHRIS MAXLEY please hang up. there will now be a 3 second pau-" click.
Chris straightens up in bed. Long ago having dismantled his alarm clock in light of the daily debt collectors beckoning. Too scared to call and say its not him, he's a terrible liar, yet reliant on the fact that he always hangs up before the three second pause. Halitosis seeps up to the naval cavity as a fully extended jaw allows oxygen to supply a momentary head rush - arms craned to the ceiling. "what to do, what. to. do."
He pushes the olive down comforter to the side revealing pale mole and dark hair spotted legs he fluidly swings to the floor. Applying his weight he stands up and repeats the head rush exercise, this time arching his back, spinal cord popping in relief.