The Tip

I stumbled into the kitchen, intent on the refrigerator. Yawning widely, I scratched my head and mussed up my long dark hair even more than it already was - my reflection in the stainless steel attested to the fact that I needed a hairbrush, badly. I ignored myself and pulled open the door. What to drink?

It only took a moment of perusing the fridge before my gritty eyes alighted on a bottle of Sunny D. I reached for the juice and made quick work of the lid before raising it to my lips and chugging the blessedly cool liquid down my throat in long, drawn out gulps. "Aaahhh," I murmured when I surfaced for air, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my pale pink pajama top. That hit the spot.

As I turned to go back to bed, closing the fridge door as I went, I happened to glance at the counter top and noticed that there was a bat there. Not a bat as in a baseball bat, but a bat as in a small, furred creature. It was sitting on the kitchen counter surveying me with little black beady eyes. It's nose was crinkled and looked pushed up into its face; it was, as far as bats go, deliciously ugly, my favourite kind.

I shrugged a little and crossed over to the window. The bat eye balled me from his spot in the kitchen. I stared back just as casually and proceeded to open the kitchen window 'til it was wide open. Then I nodded at him slowly, turned, and went on my merry way back towards my bedroom.

When I got up the next morning, I meandered my way down to the kitchen and drew up short. There was $20 lying on the counter.

Thanks, bat. Who'd have thought Vampires weren't stingy with tips?

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Credited to Cizzy-Shizzi 

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