Meade's Ball
Well-known member
Sometimes things go for you and against you. Not usually the same things, depending how tragic your thinking is in general, but i suppose you could possibly feel yourself lucky in the first moments of traitoriousness, a body you've never seen the like of before, it mesmerising and intense, a refreshing taste of newness of a drug you've never sampled, before realising it was the worst move of your life, the hangover living grossly longer than a moment of joy.
I am slightly beside my point.
Anyway, i went for a jog as i always do on a Sunday morning. I was 45 seconds into it, some hardrock banging tempestuously in my bitty ears already, when through the noise i heard a clang and turned to see a workman had fallen from the back of his van just across the road adjacent to me. I checked for traffic and trotted over, releasing the fingernail-sized pods from my earholes, and asked how he was. He dropped an "oooh", stroked a back he couldn't soothe with the thick gloves he wore and struggled to roll over, like a woodlouse fallen from a thin-stemmed dandelion it hid amongst the windblown pollen of. He climbed to his feet with an ungloved hand from me, arched his spine like a cat fresh from water, and smiled lightly in pain to affirm his okayness and for me to go on. "Thanks for your concerns." he said, and off i went. I didn't smile imperiously or as a pat of reward to self, but went on thinking i'd best just run for longer as my unfitness made this man's ascent to standing harder to assist.
It was about 54 minutes later that i saw the fallen man again, this time reaching down into a sewage pipe 100m from where i saw him the first time. His legs were awobble and seemed to be kicking at the concrete slabs, so i rushed over again, this time thinking that a monster of sorts was down in the rancourous depths of the Earth and sucking this poor man in. His head popped up, the workman with incredibly clean and bouyant hair considering his job and whereabouts, i mean, and he smiled and propped himself up to his feet to assure me he was fine. No scars on him. No lacerative tonguemarks around his overtanned neck, no pock-marks where fangs once bored and looked to suck pure life from man. I smiled in reply and went on my last legs home.
It was then that a ridiculous thing happened to me. As ever, i was somewhat in need of a weewee after shaking my part-filled bladder whilst running, so in i ran and straight to the toilet. Now, my toilet, not by my design, is one of those whose lids refuse scientifically to stay up, so a hand is needed to make it do so when urinating (for men). I still had the music playing and the hand i used for lid-lifting also had the mobile i use for riddim inside it. Now, the other hand quickly got my tinkler out to fire straight into action. What i hadn't taken into account was the fair and just sweatiness of my brow. The glasses i wear had begun to slide down my nose and looked to dive into the murk. I had no hands free to prevent it and knew i couldn't release either as it would have involved wild, directionally-uncontrolled urination, or the lid dropping and me weeing against it, causing on-the-leg splashback etc. So, the glasses fell. Now, it became more ridiculous then. The glasses dove, but on the way clung mysteriously by limb to the chord sending guitar loops from mobile to earphones. They hung there, the spectacles, just shaking with their fingertips aclasp. I was still pissing like a racehorse and could only stick to the hope that i would finish whilst the glasses hung. I forced out what seemed like gallons as i stared a little blindly downwards, thinking maybe everything would work out madly by good chance after all. No. The spectacles fell into the pool of piss. But when doing so i reached heroically to catch, letting all items go. I missed, then just urinating onto the seat, the floor and, when on more normal target, onto my visionisers. "Oh for f***'s sake!!" i hollered, before spending ten minutes embarassedly cleaning up my mess and bleaching my goggles, wondering why it all happened.
So that was my morning. Both good, looking to help someone, and then bad, firing bodily fluids unsexually in all directions, showing at sometimes i will just be helpless. Perhaps a lesson learnt. Perhaps not.
I am slightly beside my point.
Anyway, i went for a jog as i always do on a Sunday morning. I was 45 seconds into it, some hardrock banging tempestuously in my bitty ears already, when through the noise i heard a clang and turned to see a workman had fallen from the back of his van just across the road adjacent to me. I checked for traffic and trotted over, releasing the fingernail-sized pods from my earholes, and asked how he was. He dropped an "oooh", stroked a back he couldn't soothe with the thick gloves he wore and struggled to roll over, like a woodlouse fallen from a thin-stemmed dandelion it hid amongst the windblown pollen of. He climbed to his feet with an ungloved hand from me, arched his spine like a cat fresh from water, and smiled lightly in pain to affirm his okayness and for me to go on. "Thanks for your concerns." he said, and off i went. I didn't smile imperiously or as a pat of reward to self, but went on thinking i'd best just run for longer as my unfitness made this man's ascent to standing harder to assist.
It was about 54 minutes later that i saw the fallen man again, this time reaching down into a sewage pipe 100m from where i saw him the first time. His legs were awobble and seemed to be kicking at the concrete slabs, so i rushed over again, this time thinking that a monster of sorts was down in the rancourous depths of the Earth and sucking this poor man in. His head popped up, the workman with incredibly clean and bouyant hair considering his job and whereabouts, i mean, and he smiled and propped himself up to his feet to assure me he was fine. No scars on him. No lacerative tonguemarks around his overtanned neck, no pock-marks where fangs once bored and looked to suck pure life from man. I smiled in reply and went on my last legs home.
It was then that a ridiculous thing happened to me. As ever, i was somewhat in need of a weewee after shaking my part-filled bladder whilst running, so in i ran and straight to the toilet. Now, my toilet, not by my design, is one of those whose lids refuse scientifically to stay up, so a hand is needed to make it do so when urinating (for men). I still had the music playing and the hand i used for lid-lifting also had the mobile i use for riddim inside it. Now, the other hand quickly got my tinkler out to fire straight into action. What i hadn't taken into account was the fair and just sweatiness of my brow. The glasses i wear had begun to slide down my nose and looked to dive into the murk. I had no hands free to prevent it and knew i couldn't release either as it would have involved wild, directionally-uncontrolled urination, or the lid dropping and me weeing against it, causing on-the-leg splashback etc. So, the glasses fell. Now, it became more ridiculous then. The glasses dove, but on the way clung mysteriously by limb to the chord sending guitar loops from mobile to earphones. They hung there, the spectacles, just shaking with their fingertips aclasp. I was still pissing like a racehorse and could only stick to the hope that i would finish whilst the glasses hung. I forced out what seemed like gallons as i stared a little blindly downwards, thinking maybe everything would work out madly by good chance after all. No. The spectacles fell into the pool of piss. But when doing so i reached heroically to catch, letting all items go. I missed, then just urinating onto the seat, the floor and, when on more normal target, onto my visionisers. "Oh for f***'s sake!!" i hollered, before spending ten minutes embarassedly cleaning up my mess and bleaching my goggles, wondering why it all happened.
So that was my morning. Both good, looking to help someone, and then bad, firing bodily fluids unsexually in all directions, showing at sometimes i will just be helpless. Perhaps a lesson learnt. Perhaps not.
