BAH!
I skipped my own schedule because... *tries to find a suitable excuse* ... yeah.
There I was in a day with nothing to do, my ever trustful bag of Doritos and 2L. bottle of Coke laying empty by my side as the air was filled with the harmonic waves of Joe Satriani and John Petrucci lifting my soul to new heights of spiritual ecstasy. Just as my body was shutting itself off from any recognition of the events happening around me, detaching my soul from my self in a pseudo-orgamiscal experience, I have a mystical realization brought to me courtesy of my new Nokia 3220. The God of Lighting is in the same state of extreme boredom that some would even dare to call Zen, and he invites me over to his humble abode to blast some baddies, watch movies or just whatever. It does not really matter as long as we sit down on his new poffs and listen to the sweet scultural rhythms of his new Home Theater. You know, the kind of techonlogical wonders only men's mind are set to fully understand beyond the physical plane.
Of course, I agreed.
I say goodbye to my good friends playing caressing my ears through my speakers and turn the button off, take my keys and move in a hectic frenzy towards my car in the desire of a better, shinier day and to shunner away from oblivion. To make my trip more joyful I turn on my radio to those 80's tunes I love to hate so much but I have become used to. I make a stop to buy a new bag of Doritos and two 2L. bottles of Coke. Not one, not three, but two since I am a good fellow and I know I will share my bounty with The God of Lighting.
Not to soon neither too late I arrive there. The Queen of Snow is out for the time being, so we males can have the whole place to do whatever we desire in what, at least for some hours, will become our lair of perdition. The God of Lighting orders me to sit on a poff and listen to his new speakers. Non gallantly I let my body fall on a poff and let the little beans inside mold agains my body, almost comforting me. I am so relaxed, my eyes closed and my body against the soft fabric of the poff, that even my ears begin to hear the faint noise of rain falling down.
Suddenly, I realize I actually am hearing rain falling down. Rapidly my mind remembers it was a very sunny trip to The God of Lighting's lair; so sunny I even had to put my car's air conditioning to a power of 4 out of 5. Confused I stand up from the poff and walk towards the window. Sunny, no rain. What the hell, I ask myself. Then I hear familiar tunes. The Doors. Riders on the Storm. Perplexed I turn around to look at The God of Lighting, who's standing with two glasses of ice cold coke in his hand and the Doritos emptied on a plastic bowl and a grin on his face that goes from side to side.
Amazing audio indeed.
I almost feel the bullets breeze by my ears, the cars exploding almost feel like my own car in the parking lot and music really make my guts vibrate. But none of that really matters. None of that was as significant an experience as what happened with my Coke. From that moment onward, my life completely changed. My comprehension, admiration and point of view of things around me completely changed. I think not even the Pope himself could have such a significant impact on my human soul and nature.
It was the bubbles.
You see, The God of Lighting had a floor flan on his playing den; it so happend that the little table holding our hyper charged junk food stood in front of such fan. After taking my glass of Coke, we take to sit each of our hairy buttocks on our respective poffs as we prepare to take on some baddies. I lay my glass of Coke beside me, but I am warned by The God of Lighting of just how hazardous that action actually is, so I turn and put the glass on the table in front of us.
We push on and start blasting our way through horde after horde of evil thugs trying to kill us in this un-popular, co-operative game called Halo that most have not heard anything about. Just in the middle of a firefight I feel something fall against my face, tickling. I brush it off as nothing and continue pressing my shotgun's barrel down the throat of un-worthy of living Flood monsters with frantic eyes. Then there it is again, something fell against my face and tickled once more. Again and again. I realized what it was.
I dropped the controller by my side completely forgetting about the mayhem and destruction going on in that virtual world of video games as The God of Lighthing was torn to shred by a Hunter. After realizing two minutes later that he has turned into a one man army against the enemy he turns to me almost in anger, but is stopped short of shouting "What the Hell?" when he sees my face of total, complete and extreme joy; a peaceful smile of satisfaction runs through my eye-closed face and for some small moments that seemed like an eternity to me I am a small baby rediscovering the world once more. He asks me what's going on.
"It's the Coke's bubbles, man. The fan blows them to my face. They tickle."
Yes. It is stupid. Meaningless. Mundane. But it is those very small and insignificant moments that really mean something to our souls and fill our spirit once again with energies to go on. We taste immoratality and godliness. They are different for everyone. They range from sticking your head out of a car's window, against all sanity, just to feel the air running through your hair; to the feeling of realization as a climber stands a top a rocky mountain, arms stretched and head up to the heavens; to sticking your nude feet in a water pond by the forest in a starry night.
Or Coke bubbles tickling your face.
