An unexpectedly awesome day
I had to drag myself out of bed this morning via a great exertion of will. I'm pretty sure my eyes were still half-shut when I ate breakfast and rode in the car to Northcote Library, to devote myself to another endless day of dullness. I was convinced the day would be terrible. And, for the most part it was: long, arduous, dull, and forgettable, except for one small detail.
I saw him as soon as I walked through the door. All I could do for a moment was stared amazedly. I think the first words out of my mouth were:
"HOLY CRAP IS THAT A LIFE-SIZE STATUE OF A SPACE MARINE?"
It was.
It stood over two metres tall, bolter raised in the right hand, chainsword at rest in the left, frozen in a pose that veritibly exuded awesomeness. I slunk closer, feeling entirely unmanned in its presence. Its helmet's dull green eyes stared fixedly into the ground, as if boring a hole through the library's natty carpet, and into the flimsy earth below. Its breastplate bore the sigil of the Blood Raven - protagonists of the DoW games (it being promotional merchandise for DoWII). Tentatively, I turned to the other librarian. She stood, watching my antics with apparent amusement. I asked the only question a man can ask when faced with such an epitome of manliness:
"...can I hug it?"
The 'y' in the word 'yes' had barely left her lips before my arms were tight around the imposing torso, and my face pressed against the aforementioned sigil. It felt like plastic, and smelled as such, though such realities were far divorced from my mind at this point. I could smell the bolter smoke as it crisped out of the gun, hear the roar of the chainsword as it rent metal and flesh alike, hear the ubiquitous WOOSH-BANG of the rocket-pack-powered jumps into the fray, feel the smooth sheen of the ceramic power armour - soon to be pitted and scarred with battle. After what seemed like both an instant and a lifetime, I unclasped myself from the space marine, and stepped back. The other librarian was laughing at me. I didn't care.
I went through the day as I normally did, though whenever it felt obnoxiously dull and repeditive, I looked over at the space marine - ever imposing, ever awesome - and my day felt a little brighter. Thanks, Mr. Blood Raven Assault Marine. I may not see you again, as I don't work at Northcote that often, and some of the librarians were complaining about your imposing, terrifying, awesome presence. But, wherever you go I will always cherish that moment we had together. We'll always have Pari...Northcote Library.
I saw him as soon as I walked through the door. All I could do for a moment was stared amazedly. I think the first words out of my mouth were:
"HOLY CRAP IS THAT A LIFE-SIZE STATUE OF A SPACE MARINE?"
It was.
It stood over two metres tall, bolter raised in the right hand, chainsword at rest in the left, frozen in a pose that veritibly exuded awesomeness. I slunk closer, feeling entirely unmanned in its presence. Its helmet's dull green eyes stared fixedly into the ground, as if boring a hole through the library's natty carpet, and into the flimsy earth below. Its breastplate bore the sigil of the Blood Raven - protagonists of the DoW games (it being promotional merchandise for DoWII). Tentatively, I turned to the other librarian. She stood, watching my antics with apparent amusement. I asked the only question a man can ask when faced with such an epitome of manliness:
"...can I hug it?"
The 'y' in the word 'yes' had barely left her lips before my arms were tight around the imposing torso, and my face pressed against the aforementioned sigil. It felt like plastic, and smelled as such, though such realities were far divorced from my mind at this point. I could smell the bolter smoke as it crisped out of the gun, hear the roar of the chainsword as it rent metal and flesh alike, hear the ubiquitous WOOSH-BANG of the rocket-pack-powered jumps into the fray, feel the smooth sheen of the ceramic power armour - soon to be pitted and scarred with battle. After what seemed like both an instant and a lifetime, I unclasped myself from the space marine, and stepped back. The other librarian was laughing at me. I didn't care.
I went through the day as I normally did, though whenever it felt obnoxiously dull and repeditive, I looked over at the space marine - ever imposing, ever awesome - and my day felt a little brighter. Thanks, Mr. Blood Raven Assault Marine. I may not see you again, as I don't work at Northcote that often, and some of the librarians were complaining about your imposing, terrifying, awesome presence. But, wherever you go I will always cherish that moment we had together. We'll always have Pari...Northcote Library.