Today I died. You’re probably wondering why I’m able to write this – it’s because I lied. Today I didn’t die, I almost died. The whole shebang, my flash lifed before my very eyes. Wait… What?! Must be the confusion. My life flashed before my eyes. You know how they tell you you’ll see the pearly gates and a snooty angel with a harp strapped to his back like a cattle raiders AK47 wielding the infamous scroll of shame? A scroll with my name conspicuously missing because of my misdeeds. Don’t forget the dancing red devil with a pronged fork similar to King tritons trident monotonously reciting all your ex-girlfriends’ names and holding a bottle of their tears which has been miraculously turned into acid. You know you’re in for one hell of an eternal damnation (see the pun?). Your mind frantically goes back to that one time you got pulled over for speeding and you instinctively dip into your pocket trying to find a few notes to bribe the snooty angel. You realize they have streets of gold so it won’t work so you opt to bribe the devil to at least turn those tears into a bottle of vodka. He takes your money and promises to do that one thing for you – but he won’t. As you walk towards the fiery furnace he stops you and asks you “remember that mix tape?”
“What mix tape?” you ask
“The one that dude on twitter told you was fire but you didn’t even retweet?”
“You’re lying. You’re going to go down fighting huh?”
You shrug your shoulders and ask what anything has to do with it. He smiles and rubs his hands menacingly like a shit fly and says well, hell is fire. You watch as he laughs and you jump into eternal damnation just because its torture to listen to his stupid punch lines. You wish you had that mix tape with you though at least the artiste could say someone burnt his cd.
None of that happened. My life flash was in the form of a blue screen. Yes, the famous blue screen of death as computer nerds would call it. Once upon a time I was friends with one. He had an interesting theory on how to avoid the blue screen. It was simple really, buy a mac. A pristine white mac with the apple logo glowing like an angel’s halo. I was young back and then and hot blooded and didn’t heed the advice of a tech guru, that and the fact that I didn’t have 200K just lying around to buy a mac book. What am I a drug dealer?
Today was one of those days I was oblivious to the world’s grand schemes. Nothing could go wrong. I had on a clean pair of socks, bus fare was below recommended off-peak prices, the first song on my music player was Alexander Burke’s hallelujah, and I had made perfectly browned sausages in the morning. None of that birth-marked, chimpanzee finger looking sausages people make. To top it all off there was no traffic. Today was one of those days that just seemed too good to be true. My theory, an angel (not the snooty one) had read my blog and decided that I’d been through too much drama. She decided I need a break plus she owed me for the few laughs. All this was shattered the minute I walked into the office.
You know what they say about potential girlfriends? No? If they sit on a chapatti and it doesn’t work then they send a disastrous prayer to God. Ask for the worst thing that can happen to happen and when that happens pray that you think of them and give them a call. They’ll give you an ear, a shoulder, a busty bosom and a kiss on the forehead. You’ll fall in love and live happily ever after. Then they’ll give you hell and you’ll dump them and they’ll cry and those tears will end up being vodka in a bottle in hell that is really acid because the devil won’t take bribes. Fuck you future girlfriend this is all your fault. I am coming into this relationship with a grudge.
Aaaaaaanyway my laptop comes on and is stuck on the windows logo. The damn thing is on a continuous boot loop (as I later learnt it’s called) and I’m torn between punching through the screen and dropping it – I now understand how mothers’ must feel when a baby rejects a milk full of tit and is screaming at the top of their voice. I’m not saying tits solve everything but if I got offered one things might have turned out differently. Google was of as much help as an abstinence campaign in a whore house. Finally I had to swallow my pride and call an IT guru to help fix matters. Short of entering code into a command prompt that could’ve been nuclear launch codes or my ex-girlfriends’ numbers entered back words with his eyes closed to reverse the curse we had to do the inevitable – reinstall the OS. At that moment I realized that I had gotten overly attached to my OS. I hadn’t given it a name, but I felt that my writing would never be the same on a different OS. A part of me died when I had to get rid of windows 7 and finally upgrade to the not so new windows 8. Until I started writing and I realized I’d be okay – hear that people? I AM OKAY. So I live to write another day, sorry vodka bottle but it’s really acid devil with a king triton trident dancing at the gates of hell. This writer still has some more writing to do.
P.S: Dear future girlfriend I don’t hold the grudge anymore you can come out of hiding now.