In a relative (albeit minor) state of impulsive (work) imposed de(re)pression I began wandering the dark and shady streets of Bolton.

A quest of sorts.
For salted snacks.
And riches.

I found the snacks.
And feeling particularly karmic at the expense of responsibility, I utilized my chip-change to purchase (multiple) scratch tickets.

Varying brands, prices and payouts.
Ten dollars worth.

To end my financial whoas.
A hundredthousand times profit to be certain.
Fuck you Bay Street.

While satisfied with my new (financial and hunger-free) status I thought the moment could benefit from further dramatic effect, I resisted temptation (that is to scratch and win onsite), I tucked the tickets in and amongst the snacks.

I smiled in Korean to the olde woman behind the counter, bundled my jacket, installed the hood in hoodie and stepped mysteriously back into the darkness.

Oh how I imagine now the stories and tales that olde woman would have told her equally olde husband about my mysteriousity that night…but that, sadly, is another story.

As I walked home, through those same and still dark streets of Bolton, several things played through in my mind.

Not what I would do when I won.
Not what I would do with my freedoms from financial oppression.

I knew I thought I was being followed.
Possibly for the Doritos.
Likely for the lotto(s).
Hooligans were to be my best guess.
Probably a few.  Too many for most.
All high on Iced Teas.

As any savvy lone dark night walker might do, I cooly and calmly began to demonstrate (to my would-be attackers and a few dog walkers) the mighty myriad of pain that would await them, should they make way for my sack of snacks and riches.

  • The bush side kick - a surprise burst of lateral energy that sent many dried leaves tumbling through the cold night air.  In this instance I chose to add an exaggerated opposing arm swing.  Possibly a grunt.  I must say, the resultant and simultaneous cracking of twigs was loud enough to (briefly) startle even the coolest of side-kick-administerers.
  • The water bottle stomp - much like the bush kick, the stomp was highly and entirely unanticipated.  With text book delivery the subsequent splatter and crunch was a clear demonstration of my stomping power and an indication of my ruthless ill-nature towards litter and water.
  • The branch break – a dual purpose display of breaking power.  Not only could I (obviously) break a branch but now, that is after the eventual breaking fact, now I had two smaller (but equally dangerous and jagged) branches that could (and would) be used as weapons.  I will admit, the particular branch selected was extra largely and required two break attempts…but this provided the additional message that I was quite clearly not the sort to yield if pressed by initial failure.

Once my power was undeniably demonstrated and the hooligans dispersed, I made way for home.
This is what you do when followed.
Lead the would-be’s away from your home to ensure there won’t be retributive attacks by paralyzed survivors or grieving parents, if in fact you are forced to defend yourself.

With a flippant toss of the branches (into the compost bin) and a quick one-two air-punch-kick I was completely satisfied that I would not be followed into my home.

By anyone.
Possibly ever again.

Doors locked and curtains drawn, I quickly set on my task of consuming the Zesty Cheese.
Many of the chips were broken.
I briefly considered returning to the variety store to lodge a stern complaint.
But I didn’t really want to go into the store without purchasing something before I left…and as I had nothing left (left)…I left (left left) it at a harsh thought.

And.
Then.
Mid-bag.
I won the mother fucking lottery.
Three times on one sheet.
Once on the third.

Pow, pow, kerpow!
A flurry of fortune to the solar-plexus.

Today.
A newly minted member of the hundredaires club.
I’m buying groceries.
And a flashlight.
With big ass D batteries.
To bop people on the head with.

Comments
  • Nierman

    Do you have a Cliffs Notes version or should I just look at the picture?

    300+ megamillion$ tonight I’m down for an Abe. No whammies!

  • Eddie Big Guns (EBG)

    Truly heart warming anecdote.

    Remember, what defines us is how we rise after a fall.

    Clearly, you are rising like a Phoenix.

  • Peter

    I believe you mean amotherfuckingphoenix.
    And so long as that isn’t the same one that rises for the express purpose of having it’s guts eaten out the very next day, I’m ok with that.

  • Peter

    Nearman, love your new painting(s). Well the caption(s) anyway…fucker.

  • Kim

    Does this mean the furnace goes back on?

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