Occasionally when I get excited by something (being an idea-person, not an actions-person, the very concept of something cool and interesting gets me all revved up) I can feel the tingle of electricity about me, and since I watch too much fantastical television, I fancifully discharge this by throwing an imaginary lightning bolt or fireball.
I put my hands together, then theatrically rotate them apart as if willing the energetic synthesis to grow between them. Then I fire the energy towards the most distant wall.
Harmless if deluded fun? Maybe.
But what happens on that fateful day when a real fireball, fully and frighteningly imbued with real life no-bullshit fiery ballness goes flying from my fingertips, igniting the curtains and bringing my humble abode down around my ankles?
Before the government could drag me kicking and screaming into a brightly lit room and its cold, cold examination table, the local authorities would have me in jail for the willful intent to throw energetic bolts in a district zoned for domestic housing.
Looks like I have one more New Year's Resolution, one I should have learned as a kid - don't play ball in the house.
.
.
I put my hands together, then theatrically rotate them apart as if willing the energetic synthesis to grow between them. Then I fire the energy towards the most distant wall.
Harmless if deluded fun? Maybe.
But what happens on that fateful day when a real fireball, fully and frighteningly imbued with real life no-bullshit fiery ballness goes flying from my fingertips, igniting the curtains and bringing my humble abode down around my ankles?
Before the government could drag me kicking and screaming into a brightly lit room and its cold, cold examination table, the local authorities would have me in jail for the willful intent to throw energetic bolts in a district zoned for domestic housing.
Looks like I have one more New Year's Resolution, one I should have learned as a kid - don't play ball in the house.
.
.
