Hyperion Avenue

When I woke this morning, I knew there would be a revolution.  I packed my sandwiches with the ample amount of substituted grandma’s love.  I only use Peter Pan you see.  He could fly.  No one really understood that he had to steal the powers of the slut, tinker bell, he gets all the credit.  She was the enabler.  What a good little pixie.

I woke from my slumber this morning and saw Flo’s trusty Grand Am out the hazy window of my downtown Vancouver flat.  Looking across the room at the poorly painted army green walls, I noticed my own personal “Weapon of Mass Destruction” sitting next to my service rifle.  I noticed that fewer people are killed here than in the states.  It probably has something to do with the view of the bay.

Fast forward to the cold concrete floor of this parking garage.  The concrete cut in swirls to play tricks on your eyes as you feel the water drip down your back from the rain that poured last night.  Today is my Independence Day.  It is my day to live my resolutions. 

I will try to eliminate my terror and inner demons one at a time. 

I open my lunchbox and remove my sandwich.  I was right, only Peter Pan can help in a time like this.  I take a bite and load the clip.  I attach my scope and watch the light dance around in the people-filled intersection below.  The concussion of the round deafens me, lightening flashes a demon drops.  Another inner demon looks up, he drops.  I am glad I used Wonder Bread.  You simply can’t beat it.  Another demon drops.

Getting warm and my hands are charred.  Killing yourself bit by bit is tougher than you would imagine.   The light flashes around the crowd again.  Two more drop.  Change clip.

It is getting hard to hear the marching band’s cadence in my head. 

I keep trying to fight back, but more pour into the view finder.  6 more drop.  I keep fighting, but my hands are blistered, they have almost found me and I am all out of sandwiches.  12 more drop. 

I was thinking today about what I would like to do with my life after I leave this place and I think I would like to operate an automotive trebuchet.   My plan is to paint the trucks in chemiluminescence and park outside of bars.  I want to be there close to closing time and wait for the drunks to attempt to drive home.  This is when my plan will really kick into gear. 

I would intervene in their travel plans by seizing their vehicles and then strap them in with their seatbelts.  I would have specially branded vomit bags, similar to those used in Canada Air.  Once I carefully place them into their vehicles <grin, I would attach their vehicle to the trebuchet and fling their car across the county or province depending on what side of the border I am on at the time. They would land in comfort of their homes.|

I figure I could fling the individuals to their homes far cheaper than the taxi bills that the bars would normally have to cover.  This would work so much better and not leave parking lots full of cars and dead people littering the sides of our highways.  Talk about efficiency.  

Now, yes I have considered the safety of the inebriated individuals and came to the follow conclusions upon extensive research.  I recall that when I was sloshed that I rarely felt anything and more than once felt bulletproof.  I figure the increased flexibility of drunken people mixed with the abundance of air bags would make this project worth pursuing.  I personally know that it would have made the world safer when I got hammered on a daily basis. 

I shall call the service, “Fling a Drunk”.  

I am also entertaining the idea of franchising the idea to include: crack houses, brothels, honky tonks, dives, rock concerts, baseball games, football games, NASCAR races, little league baseball games, Rotary club mixers, Catholic churches, bachelor parties, bachelorette parties…shrimp sandwiches, shrimp burgers, shrimp scampi, fried shrimp, boiled shrimp…

Okay, maybe we are ALL not ridiculous, but it is pretty close.  I love the fact that I am now sober.  There I said it, Pinky is proud of being sober.  I am not thrilled to be trampled by ignorant hicks blowing their child’s college fund on Bud Light in front of me at the grocery store.  He stuck his finger in his gas tank outside and it is now stuck there.  We are all ridiculous. 

There is a storm coming through here right now, wind is whirling about.  I almost lost my hat.  People here stock up on milk and bread when a storm is coming to town.  Why milk and bread?  What an absolutely mindless choice of ingredients to make absolutely nothing during a storm.  Really wouldn’t you rather opt for some lunch meat, frozen burritos or microwavable White Castle cheeseburgers?  You could blame the devil if you wish, they call him El Diablo in Mexico, and it is more respectful.  They also serve burritos there. They are called burritos.

While watching a man torture himself in the pharmacy side of the store looking for hemorrhoid cream, he chose Preparation H, it is great on the whole, I was mowed down by one of those cranky shopping people toting beer, bread and milk.   I can’t say that I did not want to retaliate.  But I refrained from taking such action and gave it more thought.

I would like to say that I was overwhelmed by happy thoughts, which maybe I had gone to my happy place, but I did not.  The only thing I could imagine was how amazing it would be to arm 500 starving Ethiopian children at the door with tasers and turn them loose.

400 people were killed outside a village in North Africa today, Office April Fool’s jokes dominated the cover of the state newspaper.  I am myself.  I am beside myself.

Today I was sober and not ridiculous. Today I broke someone’s heart. Today someone told me they loved me. Today I was told it would be okay.

One day at a time.