A hand emerged from beneath the mound of duvet and swatted angrily at the clock, knocking it off the desk with a clatter before retreating back into the warm cushiony depths. The clock gave one last feeble beep and went silent, but its defeat was only marginal. It had completed its task, and its foe was not happy about it. Submerged under the poofy folds of the duvet, a voice gave an irritable groan and the covers began to shift. To anyone watching, it would seem as if a large pink and green mountain was convulsing as the earth wriggled into action.
A foot followed the hand out into the open air. Five stubby toes wiggled momentarily, gauging the outside temperature carefully. Then the rest of the leg emerged, soon to be followed reluctantly by a leg, midriff and torso. A tousled mane of brown hair slithered out last to join the tangle of limbs and pyjamas on the floor, a voice muttering irritably from somewhere behind the wild mass of knots and tangles. Slowly the lanky form lurched upright, limbs waving wildly in all direction until a long-limbed biped was left shivering in the middle of the orange-carpeted floor.
“God.” a voice muttered as it stalked across the room and shoved its feet into a pair of pink rabbit slippers. “I hate mornings.”