A sense of duty compells me to recall the events with utmost clarity and sincerity, as to not taint the integrity of the fanciful tale. This will be difficult, because I'm not exactly proud of the following confession. Making mistakes is part of being human, and part of maturity is admitting when you're wrong. Baring this all in mind, I proceed, albeit cautiously, to avow the following.
Chapter One: Apocalypse Soon
It was one of those nights when the world seemed so alive that we could feel its every shudder pulsating deep within our veins. My step-mother
Tiffany and I were on our weekly jog around Rice University, my old alma mater (read: not a school I attended). Our brisk stride carried us fatefully around that historic campus, each ominous pace bringing us that much closer to the incident which would occur later that night.
Concluding the brisk calisthenics, gulping in the twilight air, we happily agreed upon smoothies to nourish our aching muscles. No one could have known, amidst the lingering shafts of light bleeding into the apocalyptic night, that alas, it was to be our last jog together.
Chapter Two: Rainbowed Roman Candles
Like an executioner fashioning a noose, it was at the Smoothie King that I am certain the groundwork for the subsequent catastrophic events was laid. For hindsight is always 20/20, and years later as an old man I look back and draw but one conclusion: The 64 oz smoothie prophetically called "The Hulk" was perhaps not best suited for my 150 pound frame (though 150 pounds of pure muscle mind you).
Either way, as that invigorating blend of sugar and carbohydrates entered my blood stream I could feel the Herculean strength and fortifying energy reverberating throughout my body. It was as though flame had been touched to the fuse of a Roman Candle, and there was no escaping the inevitable rainbowed explosion.
As we made our way to the grocery store, I began to feel a burgeoning vitality metastasizing, pervading every fiber of my being. As we entered the grocery store, those last remnants of sun light succumbed to the foreboding night.
Chapter Three: A Tapestry of Absurdities
The scenes of utter insanity and macabre of reason that unfolded within the next cataclysmic hour have baffled and horrified the greatest minds of our generation for years. While I won't offer a detailed account (nor explanation) of everything that happened, suffice it to say I was completely severed from reality. Furthermore, I wove a tapestry of absurdities that should have rightfully landed me within the confines of an insane asylum. The transgressions included, but were by no means limited to:
-crashing the motorized cart into a rack of groceries amidst psychotic laughter
-attempting to be Spider Man and scale the walls of the produce section
-rolling apples and oranges across the store, claiming they were fruit grenades
-reenacting the Tiananmen Square Protest of 1989, not letting customers get into the canned food section
As the bar was raised with each climactic event, there was a sense of impending doom that must have filled Tiffany's heart. There must have been an indelible fear in her mind that she, nor the groceries were going to be safe. She couldn't have known until we exited the store, but her worst fears were marching their way to reality, as a soldier marches his way into a volley of gunfire.
Chapter Four: Tragedy Strikes
Exiting the store, I wrestled the cart from Tiffany's clenched hands and having control of over $200 in groceries, I eagerly scouted the parking lot for my next, and what was to be final, misdeed. There was but a single thought racing through my deranged mind, and that was whatever happens next must result in total annihilation. It was in the midst of that arresting thought I spotted a speed bump about 20 paces away.
My eyes targeted in and I began to run full speed at that glorious bump, and when about 10 paces away, I shoved the cart with all my strength! From the second it left my hands I knew that cart had a date with destiny and I jumped into the air, pumping my fists up and down. The cart hit the bump, began sailing through the air, spilling everyone of its last contents into a glorious cornucopia of groceries sailing on wings of happiness through the sweet night air! I looked to Tiffany, who was filled with what I can only describe as utter shock, laced with unadulterated anger, and gave her a proud smile as though I had just been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize.
Epilogue:
The events of that night, I regret to inform you, have not been altered or embellished in any way. Unfortunately, every word is true. The experience of writing it, while cathartic, has filled me with inescapable shame and regret, although I'd be lying if it didn't bring a smile, albeit small, to my face.
