I pick up my bag. I set it back down. Is it heavier than usual? I pick it up. Who put something in my bag? Huh, my water bottle froze. I left it by the window.
The terrible weather is great. The snow, or slush I mean, falls apart when I try to make a snowball. It's colder on the rooftop than the ground. I'm on my dogwood again. If I could I'd be making snowballs and lobbing them onto the heads of not-so-innocent folks. Because I can't, I have to settle for sweeping enormous sections of slush over the edge. It comes raining down with a hard thump. The trick is to watch just long enough to see it hit them, but pull back as soon as they look up in anger.
It must be awful. Imagine walking out of your front door, and in an instant becoming drenched in snow-slush. Head-to-toe wetness. Ha!
Sitting there I remember something. It was as I walked home after snapping a picture of that meteor. A man came running through the rain, half naked, right towards me. I took his picture and tried to ask him if it was alright, but the man just kept running. He ran like a bat-out-of-hell toward the sleeping bums. The man was in a trance, if I've ever seen anyone in a trance. He didn't even notice me. If I hadn't moved he would have run right into me. He was running in the rain, running in his boxers at that!
I come back to and recognize him walking out of the building. I get an especially great armful of the slush around me and bring it down on him. That'll teach him to run me over. Weird-ass.
No comments:
Post a Comment