There are times that you can dramatically place a check mark next to one of your life's goals. In no particular order; Graduate High School. Check. Got
laid. Check. Scored the winning goal. Check. Second base. Check. First new car. Check. Swam with the dolphins. Check. Then there are the goals that you did not
even know you had, but upon accomplishing them, moved them to the top of your life's goals list and appended a check mark, and perhaps a gold star for
extra emphasis.
Vomit on an angel.
Check.
It had been a very still moment. Angel with burning sword stuck in my side. Me with burning sword stuck in my side. Then I moved, trying to pull away from the
sword. He moved, drawing the sword back for another cut. These two motions were not complimentary, and the blade dragged across my side, the edge widening the
cut. This is where my breakfast decided that it was an ideal time to see the museum. It wasn't a Mr. Creosote stream; like a gastric death ray flashing
across the room. More of a spurt, a mouthful spat out with a bark of reverse peristalsis.
It caught the angel in the face.
Really, I hadn't been aiming; it just worked out that way. Serendipity. Funny serendipity; but serendipity nonetheless. I took the moment to go into shock
as blood and some temporary guests from my colon spilled down my side, soaking into my shirt and shorts. I was going into shock. That was bad.
Then it wasn't.
Something woke up deep in me. It wasn't breakfast. The angel was rubbing that out its eyes. A wash of hot energy flowed through me, coruscating through
every inch of my body. Muscles flexed, nerves thrummed, and the searing pain in side was whisked away faster than a fart in a wind tunnel.
Rock and roll.
laid. Check. Scored the winning goal. Check. Second base. Check. First new car. Check. Swam with the dolphins. Check. Then there are the goals that you did not
even know you had, but upon accomplishing them, moved them to the top of your life's goals list and appended a check mark, and perhaps a gold star for
extra emphasis.
Vomit on an angel.
Check.
It had been a very still moment. Angel with burning sword stuck in my side. Me with burning sword stuck in my side. Then I moved, trying to pull away from the
sword. He moved, drawing the sword back for another cut. These two motions were not complimentary, and the blade dragged across my side, the edge widening the
cut. This is where my breakfast decided that it was an ideal time to see the museum. It wasn't a Mr. Creosote stream; like a gastric death ray flashing
across the room. More of a spurt, a mouthful spat out with a bark of reverse peristalsis.
It caught the angel in the face.
Really, I hadn't been aiming; it just worked out that way. Serendipity. Funny serendipity; but serendipity nonetheless. I took the moment to go into shock
as blood and some temporary guests from my colon spilled down my side, soaking into my shirt and shorts. I was going into shock. That was bad.
Then it wasn't.
Something woke up deep in me. It wasn't breakfast. The angel was rubbing that out its eyes. A wash of hot energy flowed through me, coruscating through
every inch of my body. Muscles flexed, nerves thrummed, and the searing pain in side was whisked away faster than a fart in a wind tunnel.
Rock and roll.