Sometimes It's Best to Stay in Bed

I knew I had overslept as soon as I saw how bright it was outside. I looked over at my alarm to understand why it didn't ring.
Turns out the stupid cat knocked over my water glass, again. Must be some sort of passive aggressive way of telling me to sleep less. Maybe some more therapy sessions would help. But no time to think of that, I had to focus on getting to work to avoid being fired. Thanks to the frigging cat, this would be the fifth time this month that I walked in after 9:30. Robert would not be pleased, again.

I raced out of the apartment, and yelled at Fat Norma to hold the elevator. She actually flipped me the bird and smiled evilly before the doors closed in my face. I realized that my shoelace, which I had forgotten to tie in my rush to get out the door, had made it in the elevator. I felt a strong tug on my right foot before it snapped off - breaking my new $200 Johnson and Murphy loafers.

I decided that I could not take the time to wait for the elevator, and took my chances with the stairs. It was only 15 flights, not too bad. I didn't see the banana peel until it was too late. Due to my speed, I basically took flight over the 12 steps until the next landing. I landed, hard, and could not get up. Everything hurt, my back, my legs, my arms... I was shot.

As the ambulance pulled away, I hoped that I would at least have a cast to show Robert the next time I made it in to work. Perhaps that would save my job.

This post was inspired by the Fiction Friday prompt: Sketch out a character with wildly bad luck. Make it a character you like, as we will use her again.