The Knife Rain

It was raining knives. No, seriously. It was an actual rain of knives. Large knives, small knives, medium knives. They all had one thing in common. They were all really sharp.

Why was it raining knives? I don’t know. Maybe it was a glitch in the matrix. Maybe it was an act of god. Maybe an aircraft carrying knives exploded mid-air. Whatever it was no one could believe that they were experiencing a rain of knives.

Why was the rain of knives so significant? That would be a very stupid question. It’s a fucking rain of KNIVES! Actual knives made of metal. Did I mention that they were sharp?

I guess I don’t have to tell you that no one expected the rain of knives. Because when was the last time the weatherman said “you should be expecting some outbreaks of knife rains in the evening and it’s expected that it will continue through the night!”

I think the worst rains would unexpected rains. Worst yet would be unexpected knife rains. It someone actually reported that there would be knife rains in the evening everybody would be home under the safety of their roofs. (I do have a feeling that a mere roof wouldn’t actually help in a situation like that.)

I was walking towards my favorite ice cream shop when the it started. I felt a sharp pain on my shoulder and I looked at it to find a deep cut there. I was very confused as the blood turned my white t-shirt to red. The second one knife was a small one and it got lodged in my hand. I looked around to see people running and crawling on the ground. A man walking in front of me collapsed with a knife in his head. I knew I had to find shelter.

The ice cream shop was nearby so I ran as fast as I could. It had a decent roof so I didn’t have to worry about knives penetrating it. The people inside were terrified as you would expect. The news broadcast on the TV was already reporting the about the rain. About time.

The rain last for about half an hour. Hundreds of people were on the road. Some clutching at their punctures and some silent and still. Because they were dead. Duh. My favorite hot dog vendor was also dead. His cloth roof didn’t give him any protection. Of course, he didn’t expect a knife to go through the roof and get lodged in his skull.

I was still bleeding from my wounds. I walked towards my house, my shoes red with all the blood on the streets. People were crying as you would expect. A few large knives had gone through my car. I wasn’t very happy to see that.

My asshole neighbor was also lying on the ground. A very large and expensive knife punctured his chest. I can’t say if I was happy or sad about his death. I’ve had annoying neighbors but he was in a class of his own. I wasn’t happy nor sad.

Okay, fine. I was a little happy. I always wanted a knife like that.

Don’t look at me like that. It was a beautiful knife.

I am a bird.

Then I flew through the window. A shower of glass shards followed me. As I hurtled down with the wind in my hair, I wondered about what it means to die. The humiliation was just too much to bare. Sure, you would say a hall full of people laughing at you would not be a reason to kill yourself. But you don’t know me. I have a sensitive heart and it doesn’t like humiliation. At all. I probably should’ve seen a shrink but who has the time for that? Running around the world, giving lectures and meeting strangers, sleeping on a new bed every two three days. I don’t even have time to call my publisher and my best friend Jerome.

“Garry, it’s London next week. Pack your bags son because they are paying bags of cash for you!” He would tell me. A few more days and I find myself in the all too familliar aircraft, cruising to London.

But that was sometime ago. This was Sydney. The fast approaching ground was a street in Sydney. I could see cars and taxis crawling in the evening traffic. People rushing to their homes or pubs or whatever on foot. Oh god I hope I don’t crush a poor soul to death. What a mess that would be. Pieces of bones and our blood mixed together in a gory soup of death! The people who would be called to clean that up would curse at me. Not to mention the family of the crushed. I certainly don’t want to be that guy.

I was almost at the end now. I saw a few birds flying by as I was on my death run. I saw my own reflection on another building. I thought I saw my terrified face.

To my great relief, the ground was empty when I hit it. The man who was at that location had moved so I didn’t have to worry about killing him. My face was crushed on the concrete panels, spilling blood all over the place. My neck cracked. My arms changed their original position and went flying backwards. I’m pretty sure that my pelvis was shattered to a million pieces. A woman was screaming. Some men came running. Most of the people looked terrified. But there was one guy that looked familliar. I’m pretty sure he was at my lecture moments ago because he was actually laughing and yelling at his friend. “Dude! That’s the guy who peed on himself!”

A Laptop

I remember the first time I saw a proper laptop. It was at an IT exhibition at my school in Kandy. I walked into the main hall and the floor was filled with various tech related exhibition stalls. I walked over to one of the stalls and there they had a few laptops on display. As I remember, they were running Windows XP. (I was using 98 at that time.) I was fascinated with the thing. The screen looked bright and dreamy and I touched the touchpad and saw the cursor move. It felt warm and I was happy. I pressed a few keys and then walked away.

Dentists and drills.

Did you know that jewelers use dental drills for high precision drilling work? No? Okay. I just read it on Wikipedia.

Why the sudden fascination with drills? Probably because I went under a dental drill last week. I wish that was that. But oh no. I have to go back. Probably twice. How fun is that?

Yawning cheetahAll this began with a shooting pain in my mouth. Cold water, hot water, normal water. Everything was contributing to this pain and it was not pleasant. At all.

Being the self-diagnostician I am, I assumed that this was an ordinary case of ol’ sensitive tooth. Mad brushing, swimming in mouthwash and various other ‘patches’ did not help the situation. It kept getting worse.

It was time to see the dentist. Believe you me, I was very reluctant. But my gut was telling me to “stfu and go”. So I did.

After a decade. Here I was. The dentist. The clean, shiny room. The modern dental engine and chair in the middle of it. How exciting! Wait. Exciting is not the right word. Terrifying. That’s it.

After being judged by the dentist, there I was on the chair. The dude examined everything and claimed that I was wrong. (Surprising? Hell no.)

It wasn’t a simple case of sensitive teeth. Nor was it the tooth I thought it was! A damn cavity. Then, everything started making sense. Old phantom toothaches, inability of biting stuff. They weren’t caused by that tooth I blamed! It was this bastard premolar. I’m sorry, wrongfully accused molar. I really am.

The last time I had a drill in my mouth was at the school dental clinic 7.6 million years ago and when the dentist dude turned it on, memories came rushing in. The sensation of the drill cutting through you teeth, the awful taste, the noise. Oh god, the noise. Then the cleaning up. Shooting water. The pain. Regret. Hate. A cocktail of feelings and emotions.

After I got a temporary filling (to calm the nerve? That’s what I read) I went home 5x happier. Mixed with the taste of clove oil, there was no pain! Not even a bit. I had some water after a few hours and I beaming like a crazy kid! What a feeling, man!

All this followed by a generous amount of time Googling on dental procedures and I’m already freaking out about the next appointment. Wish me luck!

Before I leave: don’t forget your dentist appointments and keep your teeth nice and clean! Good luck to you all.

P.S.: I still think that human teeth are one of the worse designed elements in the human body. I mean seriously, it’s not even funny!

Do you know that feeling?

Old TelevisionYou’re 8. It’s almost midnight. You’re watching a movie on an old 14″ color TV. The movie you’re watching is not critically acclaimed. Heck, it even might be one of lowest rated movies ever. Why else would they show it on a national television channel? They never show you good movies do they? But you don’t care. You don’t even know if it has bad ratings. You don’t even know what ratings are. IMDB probably doesn’t even exist. Rotten Tomatoes? Pfft.

But you’re having fun. You’re excited. Your eyes are glued to the that miniscule screen. All the sounds pour into the room by two tiny speakers enclosed in the TV. Music, dialogues, gunshots, explosions! The floor doesn’t rattle. Your chest doesn’t rumble with bass. You’re on the edge of your bed, because you don’t know that you have vision problems. Your heart rate is high, adrenaline courses through your veins. You feel cold. The movie is at it’s climax. The hero shoots. The criminal is dead. The world is saved. You turn off the TV. You go to bed, smiling. You fall asleep. Happy. Content.

I miss that feeling.

It’s gone. Probably forever.