Mightier Than The Pen

Making The World A Bitter Place


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As if a celestial Medusa were slinking slowly toward the city, the tendrils of the celebratory fireworks dripped through the night sky. Transfixed by the metaphorical Gorgon’s incendiary countenance, the rooftop spectators failed to notice a lone, darkly clad figure slinking through the alleys of the rapidly gentrifying neighborhood. That is, until he tripped over a lose cobblestone, and, yelling a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush, crashed through the aluminum fence around a construction site and tumbled into a pile of wooden beams, causing it to collapse and rivaling the fireworks in noise produced. The neighbors gathered round as a shaken, bruised and dusty figure crawled out from amid the rubble and, refusing onlookers’ offers of assistance, hobbled away in shame.

Welcome to my life, embellished only a bit.

I slip off curbs. I walk into poles and walls. I trip over my own shoes, whether or not I’m wearing them at the time. I also once passed out from banging my elbow against the kitchen wall, but we shall save the details for some other time. Really, the narrative above could describe a typical evening for me, but for the fireworks and profanities.

Fortunately, I have a supportive spouse who never fails to say just the right thing, make just the right gesture as I wallow in pain and disgrace: a wildly unsuccessful attempt to suppress laughter, and a statement along the lines of, “You’re pathetic.” What else can I expect, really? It’s pretty damn funny when it’s someone else.

I do wish the someone else would occasionally be Mr. Ahmadinijad.

Sneering at the infidel Westerners on CNN, the President of Iran raised the marble phone receiver and spoke a single phrase: “Begin now.” With the smile on his face only slightly more pronounced than usual, he rose from his richly appointed chair and strode toward the restroom. Mahmoud Ahmadinijad inclined his head imperceptibly in salute as he passed a life-size portrait of Khomeini. In that split second, the front of the President’s shoe caught on the edge of the elegant rug running the length of the room, sending him sprawling across it like awkwardly caught pizza dough.

Yeah, the Middle East needs more slapstick.


Written by Thag

April 19, 2010 at 6:32 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged with , ,

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