I have this horrible problem, kind of like that kid on the twilight zone that would wish people into the cornfield. Every time I joke about something and think about it too hard, it happens.
One time when I was a kid, I really wanted a 7-up. So I was looking out my window in sheer agony groaning to myself because I really needed that lemony limey un-cola on my nubile taste buds. Just about that time, I saw a 7-up truck getting ready to round the corner on my street, with the big roll up doors open. My eyes instantly fixed on those beautiful emerald green bottle jingling merrily in their crates.
So I took advantage of the weak springs on the truck, the high crown in the center of the road and the inability of the driver to calculate a proper cornering speed. I used every ounce of my mind to help lean that truck right as he made the left hand turn. My world went blank except for the small circular vision focused on the sweet elixir that was at a perfect balancing point for it's weight to tilt ratio. I mentally leaned those wooden crates with all of my inner strength, and just then, as if the hand of God itself gave that truck a final push, the crates of 7-up toppled out of that truck, like a collapsing carbonated bottle building.
It took me a few seconds to regain my strength. I may have blacked out for a brief moment, but sprang to my feet and looked out the window again to see the driver and his passenger had already gotten out of the truck to assess the "freak" accident.
I quickly ran from the living room, through the kitchen, through the laundry room and out the back door. It would have been faster to go out the front door, but I could never get the damn thing open without the help of someone and my Mom was the only one home at the time. If I asked her to help me open it, there would be a barrage of questions, and I couldn't risk that at this particular moment.
So out the back door I went, around the corner of the garage and down the driveway to the street. By this time, kids and people had already stopped to see the event, while one of the men from the truck insisted that everyone stay back, the driver I'm guessing, while the other man was pushing the piles of broken glass into piles in the gutter with a push broom.
Just then, I noticed one single unbroken bottle of 7-up that had rolled under my Moms car that was parked in the street in front of our house. I tried to be as inconspicuous as I could, but I didn't seem to have to try to hard, because I almost felt invisible, but I wasn't sure if I was, so I handled the retrieval of that single bottle with Ninja like stealth. I stood there on the parkway grass as if I was looking at my Mom's car, took one last look to the left, right, then left again, kneeled down, grabbed the bottle and quickly stood up with the bottle behind my back. I slowly walked to a near by juniper bush, and swiftly tossed it under.
As the men were finishing their clean up, I could hear them yelling at the kids trying to snag the unbroken bottles, but they were shooed away before they could. But I didn't care, I had what I wanted, and now I just sat on my front stoop and waited, which seemed like a life time, but was really only about 10 more minutes.
The clean up was done, the men rolled the big doors down on the truck, pulled themselves back up into the cab and off they went, about ninety nine bottles lighter I would guess.
I went to the bush, grabbed my bottle and walked back up the driveway, around the corner, through the back door, through the laundry room, into the kitchen, where I went to the drawer and grabbed a bottle opener, then to the living room, where I resumed my position in front of the window looking out at the wet section on the street as I took a huge guzzle of the pop, followed by the biggest burp a 6 year old boy could muster up. My Mom yelled from the other room, did you say something Chris? I said, no Mom, I just burped. She replied with a stern Mom type voice, then say excuse me! With a shit eating grin, I said excuse me, in a mild voice that could only be heard by me and my dog that was laying on the couch.
I'm not sure how I came to get these powers, because I've always just had them. I think it has something to do with my birth being on Christmas day. Although I have an older brother and two older sisters, my Mom still to this day claims that she was not sexually active for over a year before my birth. Maybe I'm an alien implant of some sort, but if I am, they sure picked a dumb kid to bring intelligent life to man kind. Because, frankly, I'm still not sure why I'm here or what my purpose is. But I do know that I'm supposed to do some good for man kind, I think. I hope I didn't get the 7-up guys in too much trouble.
By the way, it's happening again. I shouldn't have made that comment about
Kansas becoming the new tropical vacation spot! Sorry!
Its also good to note that *I* was in Seattle during the summer, and it was glorious. Having brunch with Mad Dog in Seattle is one of those memories that ranks up there with smoking a joint in Central Park.
