I awoke- although I can't hardly remember having fallen asleep, or for that matter sleeping- at four in the morning with ears ringing.
Not only ringing, but there was also such an intense and piercing pain in the pit of my right ear that I thought for sure- for absolute certain!- that a bug had crawled in there to die last night.
Surprisingly I was not alarmed by this occurrence in the slightest. I simply tilted my head to the right and began to smack my hand violently against my left ear. I was hoping, you see, that the bug would crawl or fall out. When finally, upon finding nothing, I decided that there was no bug in there I sighed a deep sigh of relief. Indeed, my ears must have been ringing for a different reason. The pain persisted but I began to not notice it, having become well acquainted with the "acute act of ignoring" pain in my earlier days. I leapt to my feet and began dressing.
I dressed hurriedly. Which wasn't at all complicated, for it seemed I was already wearing most of my outside clothes to begin with. How this happened, I do not know. All I know is that I fixed my hair a bit, buttoned up my waistcoat (or vest as they say these days), slipped my feet (sockless) into dress shoes, put on a dinner jacket, and went into the toilet.
There, I proceeded to squirt cinnamon flavoured toothpaste into my mouth. I began chewing the paste. I felt the granules of flavour crystals burst in between my teeth; I felt deeply happy. The taste made me feel deeply happy and even, strangely enough, relieved. I looked at myself in the looking glass above the sink and smiled so much that I thought I would burst out laughing. That happens, you know, a smile can get so wide that it has no other choice but to transform into laughter. It's a most pleasant occurrence. Unfortunately on this occasion I was unable to break my smile. Due to the fact that, at this exact moment, there was a loud noise somewhere inside of the building, a crashing sound, that distracted me and made me remember what I was doing.
Afterwards, I was thankful for this auditory interruption, for it enabled me to come back to reality and complete my mission. Although now, I am not certain at all if I actually heard "a crashing sound" or if it, too, was just imagined.
Anyway, I was in a great hurry to leave. I continued my half-assed and impromptu grooming. I ran water from the faucet, swished the toothpaste in my mouth and spat. Before turning away from the mirror, I took a good look at my face: I looked terrible.
It was obvious that I hadn't slept well. Furthermore, my face was sad looking- to a morose degree. My skin was sallow and pale; it also seemed to be glowing sickly, like the light cast by a computer or television screen. This caused me to smile again. I pushed my bangs out of my face, blew myself a kiss, then left.
As I ran down the steps I could not help but feel as if somebody, or something- an apparition or a shadow- was running alongside me. My feet turned into icicles and it took all the strength left within me (which was not a lot) to keep moving.
Finally, with tremendous effort, I reached the street.
Wind was blowing plastic bags and leaves around my bare ankles and about my feet. It was terribly chilly. Almost freezing. I realized immediately that I was dressed inappropriately for such weather- "I shall catch a cold and die!"- I thought. And, this thought greatly satisfied me. I turned the collar up on my dinner jacket and began skipping in the direction of the sacred shrine (which was really only a shack readily accessible without a key). I knew they would be waiting for me. And, I knew, more than ever that I was going to kill every last one of them. I also knew, with such an amazingly firm conviction, that I was going to thoroughly enjoy doing it.
It was at this precise point in time that something outlandish began to happen. Believe it or not, a voice began to follow me- as if from above- narrating my every movement. The voice was undeniably familiar; it was the voice-over voice "they" use in commercials or for theatrical trailers. I began laughing wildly. I laughed so hard that my stomach started hurting. In fact, I vomited.
The vomit looked disgusting. I was lucky that nobody was out on the street, for if anybody were to have seen my puke they would have pitied me: there wasn't a trace of food in it. Only spit and bilious, lurid liquid. As soon as I regained composure this too made me smile.
I was almost there.
Then, I was there. I reached out my trembling hand and turned the knob on the door. Immediately, as if planned beforehand, I was overwhelmed with despair. I felt blisters growing in my pockets and the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on age and erect, as if standing at attention for an angry lieutenant or drill sergeant. It was at this moment- this inopportune and, because of this, perfect! moment- that I collapsed.
Before falling completely to the ground before me I heard that voice-over for movies and TV voice whisper ever-so sultrily: "Please stay tuned ladies and gentleman, until next week."
Not only ringing, but there was also such an intense and piercing pain in the pit of my right ear that I thought for sure- for absolute certain!- that a bug had crawled in there to die last night.
Surprisingly I was not alarmed by this occurrence in the slightest. I simply tilted my head to the right and began to smack my hand violently against my left ear. I was hoping, you see, that the bug would crawl or fall out. When finally, upon finding nothing, I decided that there was no bug in there I sighed a deep sigh of relief. Indeed, my ears must have been ringing for a different reason. The pain persisted but I began to not notice it, having become well acquainted with the "acute act of ignoring" pain in my earlier days. I leapt to my feet and began dressing.
I dressed hurriedly. Which wasn't at all complicated, for it seemed I was already wearing most of my outside clothes to begin with. How this happened, I do not know. All I know is that I fixed my hair a bit, buttoned up my waistcoat (or vest as they say these days), slipped my feet (sockless) into dress shoes, put on a dinner jacket, and went into the toilet.
There, I proceeded to squirt cinnamon flavoured toothpaste into my mouth. I began chewing the paste. I felt the granules of flavour crystals burst in between my teeth; I felt deeply happy. The taste made me feel deeply happy and even, strangely enough, relieved. I looked at myself in the looking glass above the sink and smiled so much that I thought I would burst out laughing. That happens, you know, a smile can get so wide that it has no other choice but to transform into laughter. It's a most pleasant occurrence. Unfortunately on this occasion I was unable to break my smile. Due to the fact that, at this exact moment, there was a loud noise somewhere inside of the building, a crashing sound, that distracted me and made me remember what I was doing.
Afterwards, I was thankful for this auditory interruption, for it enabled me to come back to reality and complete my mission. Although now, I am not certain at all if I actually heard "a crashing sound" or if it, too, was just imagined.
Anyway, I was in a great hurry to leave. I continued my half-assed and impromptu grooming. I ran water from the faucet, swished the toothpaste in my mouth and spat. Before turning away from the mirror, I took a good look at my face: I looked terrible.
It was obvious that I hadn't slept well. Furthermore, my face was sad looking- to a morose degree. My skin was sallow and pale; it also seemed to be glowing sickly, like the light cast by a computer or television screen. This caused me to smile again. I pushed my bangs out of my face, blew myself a kiss, then left.
As I ran down the steps I could not help but feel as if somebody, or something- an apparition or a shadow- was running alongside me. My feet turned into icicles and it took all the strength left within me (which was not a lot) to keep moving.
Finally, with tremendous effort, I reached the street.
Wind was blowing plastic bags and leaves around my bare ankles and about my feet. It was terribly chilly. Almost freezing. I realized immediately that I was dressed inappropriately for such weather- "I shall catch a cold and die!"- I thought. And, this thought greatly satisfied me. I turned the collar up on my dinner jacket and began skipping in the direction of the sacred shrine (which was really only a shack readily accessible without a key). I knew they would be waiting for me. And, I knew, more than ever that I was going to kill every last one of them. I also knew, with such an amazingly firm conviction, that I was going to thoroughly enjoy doing it.
It was at this precise point in time that something outlandish began to happen. Believe it or not, a voice began to follow me- as if from above- narrating my every movement. The voice was undeniably familiar; it was the voice-over voice "they" use in commercials or for theatrical trailers. I began laughing wildly. I laughed so hard that my stomach started hurting. In fact, I vomited.
The vomit looked disgusting. I was lucky that nobody was out on the street, for if anybody were to have seen my puke they would have pitied me: there wasn't a trace of food in it. Only spit and bilious, lurid liquid. As soon as I regained composure this too made me smile.
I was almost there.
Then, I was there. I reached out my trembling hand and turned the knob on the door. Immediately, as if planned beforehand, I was overwhelmed with despair. I felt blisters growing in my pockets and the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on age and erect, as if standing at attention for an angry lieutenant or drill sergeant. It was at this moment- this inopportune and, because of this, perfect! moment- that I collapsed.
Before falling completely to the ground before me I heard that voice-over for movies and TV voice whisper ever-so sultrily: "Please stay tuned ladies and gentleman, until next week."
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