Any Old Pap

Will reclined dismissively in the computer chair, and groped his glass of cola. 16:46, and twenty-nine seconds.
Thirty.
Thirty-one.
Thirty-two.
Thirty-three.
The distant sound of the front door opening awakened Will from his comatose state, but returned to the stupor just as swiftly as he had left. His glasses slowly slid down, encountering no resistance, until they perched impatiently on the end of his nose.
Facing the ceiling, Will looked down, past his nose, through the dirty lenses of his glasses to the computer monitor, scanning the screen for any possible stimuli.
Behind, his sister glided noiselessly past the door. Will noticed.
There was nothing to do. Absolutely nothing on this godforsaken planet that he could do without exerting himself further than he was comfortable with.
Fuck all.
Zilch.
Oh, Christ. Is this what he had wanted from his Summer Holidays? Will had looked forward to this long period of rest for so long, but there's only so much rest one person can manage before he starts to experience brain death.
The sun shone, the curtains were drawn, and melancholy engulfed Will's sanctuary.
He reached forward, and rested his hand on the mouse. He was taking far more time than he needed to. He paused for a moment of quiet reflection.
Internet.
Bookmarks.
Will > Blogger. That might do. That might pass the time. That might provide a momentary source of creative expression and self-satisfaction in what has been, all in all, a completely wasted day. Maybe, just maybe, adding to the blog will provide an excuse, a reason for this day to have ever existed.

Okay. Here we go. New Post. Right... What to call it, what to call it...
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Oh, I'll just put any old pap as the title. I can come back to that later.

William sat, in his melancholy sanctuary, brushed the lank locks of hair from his eyes,
and pondered.

THE END