I was awoken again by the fire alarm in my building going off this morning. I live in a block of about twelve flats, but about eleven of the flats are usually being let out to tourists on holiday… And when I say tourists, I mean morons.
Anyway, these tourists are apparently constantly burning toast or smoking indoors or whatever, so the fire bell goes off every few days. So constant is this event, that no one even bothers to find out if there’s actually a fire; the first person out into the hall just goes and turns it off, and then walks back inside.
Cut to this morning. It’s cold, I’m tired, I’m in bed, I’m naked. Wild bloody horses couldn’t get me out from under those covers; so when I hear the old familiar sound, you can bet your ass I just put a pillow over my head.
This got me thinking though, and I soon realised a worrisome fact. This post has no moral, or meaning; but simply a revelation.
I would much sooner burn to death, than bother getting out of bed for a false fire drill.
One day, it’ll be a real fire. And on that day, I’ll regret every incidence of ignoring the fire alarm, but until that day… I am going to ignore the fuck out of that fire alarm.