Misfits: Part 1

First part is here! Introducing the main character. Hooray for random people ringing on your doorbells!


The body clock is actually one of the greatest wonders of the human body and it’s the thing governing our eat-shit-sleep cycle. It’s more fancily called the circadian rhythm. This rhythm is heavily dependent on the exposure of the human body to the solar rhythm, the rising and the setting of the sun which acts as its external cue. For example, when the sun rises, when to start eating breakfast or for those who are more nocturnal, when to start sleeping after the graveyard shift. Non-exposure to the sun messes the body clock up, that’s why people who get stuck on caves have a poor sense of time. Basically, the sun and the lack of it becomes a natural source of telling time for your body.

However, through the wonders of human technology, it is possible to know the time and date without even relying to the sun. Moreover, such technology allows internal lighting so you could see the time at very dark places, for example, a dark chilly room. Aside from this, such technology can be also used to request a delivery of pizza, which is the most important staple food of the world.  Ladies and gentlemen, the mobile phone!

I look at my phone and the date is August 23, Monday. The time is 11:26 AM, almost time for lunch. Well, this might count as breakfast for me, so let me rephrase that. The time is 11:26 AM and it’s almost time for lunch for the sunbathed people of the world. I turn on the television and switch the channel to National Geographic. I actually didn’t pay any attention to the show, it was something about polar bears, I think.

I head outside my room since my stomach was rumbling like crazy. I wonder what the food is. Since mom already left, most likely it must have gone cold.  At the kitchen, some sweet ham, Vienna sausages, fried rice, and scrambled egg were all neatly set on the table. Man, mom always makes a lot of food. At this rate, I’m going to end up like one of those super fat recluses in television.


And that’s our doorbell. See, if the mobile phone is one of the pinnacles of human innovation and technology, the doorbell is probably the worst. That annoying sound that rings all over the ears—putting it at human hands make it the greatest psychological torture device. Ever.


I’ll just let that person ring the doorbell. No one is living here, this house is empty and devoid of any living creature, I swear! Besides, mom usually answers the doorbell. Also, what the hell is it with our doorbell? One press and it plays a flurry of notes! I want the standard one where it would just do a nice cute DING. What kind of person would buy this thing?


Damn. This is so annoying. I can’t even concentrate on eating. Recall Kung-Fu Panda. Inner peace. That’s what I need—wait a minute. First of all, I have been a recluse for almost five months now. I should know by now the art of cancelling the noises from the outside world. I should seriously start channelling this ability! Second, I haven’t seen people for the past months too. I might get an intense reaction or allergy or something like that. My immune system might not be ready for the sudden outburst of viruses and bacteria from the outside world. Third, what if this is some sort of abduction? Some super secret agency tasked with extraterrestrial activities here on Earth has finally discovered that I am, more or less, involved with aliens and they know that my memories have been wiped out! I like to think that is the case…but seriously, that doorbell keeps on ringing and it’s getting on my nerves.

“Excuse me? Is anyone home?” My ears suddenly twitch at the voice of the one knocking on our door. It’s a woman’s voice, for sure. It’s a sweet and mellow voice, but more than that, I felt as if it was tugging on my heart. But I can’t open that door! So please go away, mysterious woman behind the door that keeps on pressing on our doorbell.

After a few minutes, the doorbell wasn’t ringing anymore, so I assume she must have left. I finish what was remaining of my food, washed the dishes, and quickly went to the room. My daily routine could go something like this: eat, read comics, watch television, take a bath, eat, read books, play videogames, draw some stuff, listen to music, try to play some musical instrument, sleep, stretch, eat, watch television, surf the internet, and sleep again. From time to time my mother or little brother would bother me with some menial task, but I usually stick with my rigorous cycle. I wouldn’t say it’s a routine as most of the time the activities are interchangeable. But, I try to maximize my activities on different things. That’s why I can’t simply be called a recluse or some dingy shut-in! I am the most efficient shut-in ever!

Forget school, all the knowledge I need, I can get with the internet, television, and the books I have! Okay, so maybe the school still sends my mom the lesson plans, and I still kinda have to be forced to read it, but that reinforces the fact that I don’t need school! Not only is it noisy, but there’s a lot of idiots that fill the school to the brim. It’s like putting all the ewoks and Jar Jar Binks together in one box and inbreeding them.


That sound came from the window in the living room. A burglar? At this time of the day? It can’t be. Don’t tell me…it’s one of those Jehovah’s Witness?! Or maybe the Ministry of Jesus Christ Our Saviour the King of Kings and Lord of Lords (MOJCOSTKOKALOL for short)! Or it could be that bratty ten-year old kid around the subdivision that has a habit of invading people’s privacy. Or it could be that shady group of people selling food supplements and detergent that is obviously part of a pyramid scheme! Or…it could be that woman a while ago, it may definitely be her. I immediately head to the living room, partly because this person still keeps on knocking on the window as if really intent on breaking it.

 “Excuse meeee? Is anyone home?” That sweet and mellow voice with a cute tone in the way she says her words. Yup. Totally called it.

 “Mrs. Selina? Are you there?” Her voice is kinda familiar too—wait a minute. She knows my mom’s first name. Could it be one of her friends? I don’t recall any of her friends having a beautiful voice like that. I can almost discern their voices when I recall all those annoying friends of hers who flaunts how their child is the top of this stuff, the best in this one, won the award for having good bowel movement or something.

“Auuuntie Selinaaa, are you there? Aunt—” This is an unexpected development. This woman just saw me right now and is currently locking eyes with me. It’s like one of those Pokémon battles where you lock eyes with an enemy trainer and you have no chance of escaping. They way she looks at me with those earnest eyes. What’s the point of even having curtains if they don’t properly cover our windows?!

“Oh, is that you Keith?” The woman said with a loud voice.

By the gods, she knows my name!


One thought on “Misfits: Part 1

  1. Pingback: Misfits: An Alternative Class | Casual Warheads

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