The coffee was not cutting it today, so I just gave myself a nice jolt of adrenaline to jump start. I can't really understand why I am worth less than a warm cup of piss since I only had two glasses of wine last night. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for some unknown sap, I found an impulse to act upon, and as a result, I am born again. It's a good thing too because this Friday reeks of a Monday, as clients are coming at me from all angles with various blunt objects.
Here's how it all went down...
When I shuffled into the men's room, a funk kicked me in the nuts and singed my throat. I seriously had to fight passing out, like some late night trucker nodding off on the road to nowhere. Under normal circumstances, had I not bloated myself with coffee to the point where my bladder pressed against my eyeballs, I would have u-turned immediately and waited for the air to clear. Instead I pulled my shirt over my nose, a completely futile approach, and took care of business at the urinal. The impulse hit me as I washed my hands, and since it made my heart race, I went with it.
I must have unreeled half a roll of toilet paper. It barely fit into the sink, but it melded together very nicely once I soaked it with water. Over my shoulder I heard the crinkle of newspaper pages, as I shaped the mess into a soggy orb. Then, with silent 1-2-3 count, I threw a strike that splattered with a tremendous echo on the tile above the stall and bolted out of there. In my wake I heard the guy yell something like, "Mike - you prick! I'm gonna get you."
I have no clue who Mike is, but that's his problem, whoever he is. All I know is I that little incident gave me mad game, and I will finish this day (and this week) with some electricity in my veins, even if it's on an immature note.
Now back to the salt mines.