Make Limeade

Not too long ago, I suffered an “incident”, as the politicians call it. I’m a team man, though it doesn’t look so from the outside. And few teams are as essential to me as my wrestling team. I try to be there, to be a part anywhere I can, to the point of unhealthiness. Now, introductions aside, this instance was just another match. Our players are, for the most part, fairly intimidating, yet fate had not smiled upon us this night. I yelled on as my teammate was down, trying to find an opening, but to no avail. The ref made a call and, that’s where I saw him. Hooked nose, grey baseball cap worn INSIDE the building, the slightly tattered grey-pink shirt that was obviously manufactured to look older than it really was. Yup, this guy was a d-bag.  There he sat, yelling at the ref for anything that didn’t favour his son (associate?), even though he was winning. Rage boiled up inside me, like I had not experienced before. For the most part, I try to keep calm, but this time, no. I calmly walked up, and laid a pop right across the cheek.  I can’t really remember what happened next, but it was bad. From the ground I could see a scene of chaos. Wrestlers throwing punches at nobody in particular, body parts tossed comically through the air, small children clinging helplessly to the ceiling rafters. I watched as the room gained a pinkish tint, and I heard the sound of children laughing. Then I realized I’ve played too much Call of Duty, and I abruptly passed out in the middle of the fray. When I woke up I smelled sterilization. A hospital. An older gentleman was standing over me, somewhat imposin, curious. “Ah! He’s awake! Good morning, young man!” I was hardly awake, but I knew I didn’t like this man. flabby cheeks, pink lab coat. Yup, this guy was a d-octor.  “looks like you got whacked pretty hard. A little too into the sport, I see….” Rage boiled up inside me, like I had never experienced before. Unthinkingly, I whipped my hand into a fist. Moments later, the full weight of my M.D. Was upon me, yelling in muffled, yet quite vulgar, tones. There was no time for waiting. I leapt for the nearest window, hit it face first, opened the window, and jumped. I fell the two feet into a nearby shrubbery, and took off on foot.  There was only one place I wanted to go, being a wanted man. Dashing up the street, I found my house, and grabbed hold of the door. No other place had me signed in on Facebook, and if I didn’t update me status then, when would I? I took a seat and hastily typed away. “On the run, people may be dead lol” from my seat I could feel him enter the room as I pressed “Update”. I could tell my brother was standing by the door. ”Will, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you have to stop. Maybe this has something to do with the match, but-” Oh God.  Rage boiled up inside me, as I had never experienced before. The deep concern, the v-cut J-Crew brand shirt, the genetic similarities to me. this guy was a d-uff. With a quick push of my $12 Wal-mart sneakers, I barreled towards him. There was a crash, and Next thing I knew, i was outside and there was glass in my face. It hurt. A lot. But there was no time for rest, as the shrill of sirens began to close in on me. Closer, closer, closer.  As it turns out, there was time to rest, as I was still lying there when the fuzz arrived. This was it. It was all over. My ride was over.  But wait! In the nick of time, a plot twist arrived, in the form of Megan Fox riding a motorcycle. I wasn’t too fond of Megan Fox, or her movies, but she’d do in such dire circumstances. I hopped onto her bike, and we both did a wheelie over all of the cars( A la E.T.) before they all inexplicably exploded. We landed, and rode off into the sunset. Roughly seven minutes later, as we were booking it down the highway, Megan turned to me. “I assume you know why I saved you!” she yelled. “Ever since that fateful incident at the wrestling meet, we have been watching you, waiting. It’s time to prove yourself. We’re writing a sequel.” Rage boiled up inside me, like I had never experienced before. There was barely enough character progression in the first few paragraphs, and the conflict had hardly been resolved! If they started on a sequel before concluding the original, there will be plotholes in the story! I raised my fist, preparing to strike, ready for a blow, and we both hit a concrete wall.  So there I was, rising towards heaven, where I came before God. My child,” he bellowed in his Godliness. “Indeed, you have lived a life of selflessness, yet your recent actions have tarnished your soul. I will give you entrance to Heaven on one instance: that you admit your wrongdoing to your team and the other 1426 people who were somehow affected by this story.” Rage boiled up inside me, like I had never experienced before. But there I was; nothing left was to be done. I had no other choice, I had no other option.  I punched God in the face.