play music (in different tab)
Edwin Goodfellow stood up quickly from the dresser and smacked his head off the Bloody Lamp. He rushed over to the pile of dirty laundry on the floor beside his bed, where within, his phone alarm had started obnoxiously bleating its 8-bit rendition of The Final Countdown. Desperately scrambling to find it and shut it off before it woke up Jane, who lay snoozing in the bed still, he systematically checked every pocket of every article. Third pair of pants, left back pocket. Strange, he thought, I don’t believe I've ever used a left back pocket for anything but lint. It was a quandary. The more he thought about it, the more it upset him. Perhaps he was wearing his pants backwards that day and had thought he was putting his phone in his right front pocket. No, that wasn't likely. Then what could it have been? A muddled snore from Jane snapped him out of the trance.