Oh it's you, well take a seat... I guess.
Got my pay last night that includes my increase... it makes me happy and swell.
If you're a follower of this pitiful Live Journal, then you must know my hockey team kicks off the season tonight. I think I'll go light up candles at some randomly chosen church during my lunch hour, they'll need all the divine intervention they can get. Nonetheless, I'll stay strong in my ardent fanatism with them. I'm just tremendously happy they're finally giving the younguns a chance to prove themselves.
*points to the 85-86 stanley cup, mostly rookies* Not that I expect them to get the cup.
Enough babbling about the boredoms of hockey and my slightly biased view of it, I have some dire announcement to make.
This morning as I was walking on the same street where I first saw my beloved deceased friend Plumo the Seagull, I stepped... ... I'm not sure I can get it out just now.
...
*cries*
It was horrible. Through some, I'm positively sure, otherwordly means of camouflage there lay in my path yet another carcass. It was so well hidden under a drying foliage that I realised but too late my mistake. I had stepped on it and could almost feel the crushing of its flimsy bones under my soled pressure. Slightly nonplussed, I looked down at the unexpected resistance. Stopping in mid-stride, I came to realise my mistake. If the street had, through some paranormal universal hiccup, been transposed to some point and time when war was raging (say Vietnam in the late 60s or Pakistan in the late 80s), undoubtedly I would have died or been maimed from stepping on a personal mine so absent-minded was I. However, had I been in Afghanistan or Southern India chances are the object of my disgust would have been long eaten by some dirty street urchin looking for hunger satiation.
There it lay, unaturally squirming even in death due to my chanced stepping, under my foot... the rotting body of a once-fat rat. As I mentionned earlier, it rested well-hidden under a cluster of drying leaves which was unconsciously labeled to my groggy mind as being totally innocuous.
Oh was I wrong... Only after the horrid act did I notice the protruding rat tail. My left foot will be uncleaned for years to come as the body's rattish malign soul seeped through the sole of my newly bought shoe to possess my once-benevolent left foot.
It is tainted... I am defiled.
For those of you wondering (and I blame your sick minds for that) what happened following this miserable ordeal, I shrugged and continued on my way to work.
Fin~
If you're a follower of this pitiful Live Journal, then you must know my hockey team kicks off the season tonight. I think I'll go light up candles at some randomly chosen church during my lunch hour, they'll need all the divine intervention they can get. Nonetheless, I'll stay strong in my ardent fanatism with them. I'm just tremendously happy they're finally giving the younguns a chance to prove themselves.
*points to the 85-86 stanley cup, mostly rookies* Not that I expect them to get the cup.
Enough babbling about the boredoms of hockey and my slightly biased view of it, I have some dire announcement to make.
This morning as I was walking on the same street where I first saw my beloved deceased friend Plumo the Seagull, I stepped... ... I'm not sure I can get it out just now.
...
*cries*
It was horrible. Through some, I'm positively sure, otherwordly means of camouflage there lay in my path yet another carcass. It was so well hidden under a drying foliage that I realised but too late my mistake. I had stepped on it and could almost feel the crushing of its flimsy bones under my soled pressure. Slightly nonplussed, I looked down at the unexpected resistance. Stopping in mid-stride, I came to realise my mistake. If the street had, through some paranormal universal hiccup, been transposed to some point and time when war was raging (say Vietnam in the late 60s or Pakistan in the late 80s), undoubtedly I would have died or been maimed from stepping on a personal mine so absent-minded was I. However, had I been in Afghanistan or Southern India chances are the object of my disgust would have been long eaten by some dirty street urchin looking for hunger satiation.
There it lay, unaturally squirming even in death due to my chanced stepping, under my foot... the rotting body of a once-fat rat. As I mentionned earlier, it rested well-hidden under a cluster of drying leaves which was unconsciously labeled to my groggy mind as being totally innocuous.
Oh was I wrong... Only after the horrid act did I notice the protruding rat tail. My left foot will be uncleaned for years to come as the body's rattish malign soul seeped through the sole of my newly bought shoe to possess my once-benevolent left foot.
It is tainted... I am defiled.
For those of you wondering (and I blame your sick minds for that) what happened following this miserable ordeal, I shrugged and continued on my way to work.
Fin~