Just had PT on my right shoulder. Doing this PT often involves the LEFT shoulder as well. Some of y’all may recall it’s screwed up too so I can end up quite sore.
“Quite sore” can be defined as, “Will somebody pull that FRICKEN knife out of my left shoulder PLEASE!!?”
I’ve got months of this…and another surgery left to endure.
I mutter, whilst doing more exercise at home: “Man, I’d KILL if I could just be through with all this.”
Arms/shoulders are suddenly good and a smarmy dude in a very expensive suit, red silk tie, Italian loafers, and slicked-back hair is standing there, only smoking slightly. There’s a smell of brimstone in the air.
“That’s a bargain!” he says and starts to hand me a dossier. “I want you to kill this gu…”
…and I run a the Katana I’m holding right through his heart, quickly pull it out, and decapitate him as he falls.
The body blows to smoke before it hits the floor.
Five seconds passes.
*POOF* He’s back. He’s not happy.
“DUDE! What the FUCK??!”
“Hey, if I’m gonna kill somebody…*I* get to decide who it is. That pesky free will thing don’t-cha-know.”
Then I stab him in the balls I really HATE smarmy incarnations in loafers, I always feel like they’re gonna try to sell me a timeshare…or a religion.
Before the body hits the floor I decapitate him again just for good measure. I know how this works…ya only get so many lives. Evil incarnate ain’t gonna waste ’em on me.
I also yelled, “THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!” just to make sure he wouldn’t come back.
My wife, from the other room, “ONLY ONE WHAT?”
She knows the reference…clearly illustrated by the fact that she yelled that in her best Sean Connery accent.
…and then, “Do you smell sulfur?”
The moral TO this story is deceptively simple:
Don’t enter my locked house uninvited. When I put a locked door between me and others…it’s not for MY protection. The moral IN this story? Heh…I wouldn’t even hesitate.
I’ll see you on the road.