Five years ago on this day I arrived in Colorado Springs, CO. After a long, dark, rainy drive through eastern Colorado Brian and I finally reached our destination. Before collapsing, we went upstairs with the Birds and watched Fight Club. Reckon Brian and I fell asleep halfway through the movie. The altitude kicked my ass not to mention the grueling drive across monotonous, hellish Kansas.
I can't believe it's been five years. Sometimes it feels like I've been here forever, other times it was only yesterday seeing Brian off to his flight back to New Jersey.
The trade off? The top of my right foot, where the leg meets the foot, is aching like a motherfucker.
Hopefully this will also pass.
Of course this makes me think that as long as I am biking or engaged in constant exercise, I'm not going to suffer any real maladies or injuries that remind me that my body is mortal and could fall apart at any moment.
Finally, I really start getting nuts when I don't take my nightly multivitamin. Seems the past couple of days I forgot to take it and anxiety got the better of me. I took one on Tuesday night and one on Wednesday morning and I feel right as rain.
I was on a tour with a few people visiting the site of a mass murderer. The criminal in question was an eight or nine year old boy who looked Mexican in descent. Over the course of a year he murdered sixteen people and twelve beasts according to the leaflet given to each tour member. His bedroom was spotless, bright and sunny. Our guide pointed out the closet which had a pile of unwashed clothes on the right-hand side and a large empty space on the left hand side.
"This is where the child kept the slain until it was safe to dispose of the bodies." He went on to explain how the parents were clueless, ignoring the blood-soaked clothes and unusually shaped piles in the closet.
When our group left the room, we walked down a long windowed corridor. A noise up ahead became louder and louder but no one could find the source. Finally a small, vicious brown shape leapt from the side knocking over one of the tourists. My first and only impression was this kid was the absolute embodiment of evil who desperately needed to die. I grabbed him from behind so I could lift him off the ground and shake him. He became a blizzard of shining metal.
His combat style was two handed, butcher knives in each hand which were scarred and calloused from his weapon of choice since they lacked proper pommels and safeguards. The kid's eyes were completely black on black which was made more meanacing by his dark hair. He kept up some banter the entire time, clearly excited at the prospect of a fight.
"I like to fight two handed", he shouted as he stabbed to my right, "because there's nothing better than the look of shock when you dodge it and stick yourself on my other knife." I looked down and saw that I had narrowly missed sticking myself like a pig on either of his knives. Fortunately I was able to dodge each thrust but the effort kept me from caving in his evil fucking skull. Nothing but a blur of anger, bloodlust and steel was before me. Everyone else was able to get away to safety yet they were far more concerned for their own asses rather than realizing there's safety and power in numbers.
This ornery little fuck who deserves to die is still out there.
