When God Gets Pissed:
The Day a Storm Destroyed Everything the Burglars Didn't Take
By: Alex Sandell
It was 5:30 PM on the evening of September 20th and all was well. Sure, there were a couple of clouds in the sky, but nothing major. I had just returned from Best Buy where I purchased a $52.99 wireless keyboard and mouse combo for the clearance price of $8.75. With all the money I saved on a product that I didn't really need; I sprung for the new Velvet Revolver CD (also on sale for $9.99, which, ironically, was more than one fuck of a nice wireless keyboard and mouse).
Somewhat eager to hear what was going down in the has-been world of hair-metal, I popped the CD in my DVD player (electronic multitasking is fun!). It was then that the thunder roared. The thunder pounded. And, despite Slash's drunken thrashing guitar abilities, it had nothing to do with Velvet Underground. It was a storm, and it was huge. The biggest I can ever remember. Before I could unplug my electronics lightning was coming down in waves. This wasn't just lightning -- it was lightning with a vengeance. Someone pissed off lightning and it was striking back. This lightning was a fucking surge.
I decided to go hide in my darkroom. The room I seek out when a storm hits, as I'm epileptic and the flashing lights brought on by nasty lightning with a grudge can induce seizures in those vulnerable to surges -- whether ordered by that prick Bush or by that prick God Almighty. My dog -- scared out of his fucking wits with hair standing on end making him look like a pissed off porcupine -- went along with me. We could no longer see the lightning, but the thunder was so loud you could put your nose to the floor and your eyebrows would stand on end. Seriously. It was that loud.
Then there was a terrifying, deafening crack and Porthos (my dog) barked like a mother-fucker. Next thing I knew the power was out. Power's out in a storm. Happens all the time, right? Yeppers. But little did I know it wouldn't be back on for a full 24 hours and, during that 24 hours, I would come to the sad realization over how important electricity is to me, you and every human creature wasting space on this precious earth we're busy destroying with our jeeps, SUVS, overpopulation and massive farting. Did I mention our over reliance on electricity? And farting? We fart a lot.
The storm came and went like a Viagra (if Viagra isn't capitalized, it comes back as a spelling error -- way to buy off the typo-industry, Big Pharma!) induced orgy. It was hard, it was fast and it was over in 15 minutes. But like an STD, the after-effects continued well past the orgasm. The power wouldn't come back on. At first I was fine with that. "Oh well, I'm supposed to play through Halo 2 with an online friend at 10PM prior to the Halo 3 release-- surely the power will be back within 4 hours." Then 10PM came and went. And 11PM and midnight -- and suddenly it was fucking tomorrow, and still no light.
By "no light," I mean absolute darkness. This was as black as an asshole without proper pornographic bleaching for the camera. I had no flashlights, no candles, no matches, no lighters. And for the first time in for-fucking-ever, I had wished I were a smoker. And electricity really has come (is it "come" or "came") to mean everything to most of us. When the power went out back in the olden days, you could still use the phone. Not anymore. I have one of those net-phone bullshit fucking services that overcharge idiots like me bullshit prices to use our phones online. If the modem's down, so is your telephone. Without electricity, you're without a phone. So much for Qwest giving a limp dick.
So I'm stuck, epileptic, with crappy Qwest and no access to 911. No access to a friend. No access to a fucking thing outside of my lightsaber. And that's all that saved me. The Force was with me that night and the collectible, limited-edition $100 lightsaber worked as a flashlight. A very bright flashlight with sound-effects. But I took what I got and a neighbor asked me the next day what the hell I was using the night before. "It looked liked a lightshow," she said. And it was. Thanks, George Lucas. And ... er ... neighbor ... what were you doing spying on me in the middle of the night?
That lightsaber shed the tiniest bit of blue light into a dark situation. But it couldn't save me from the burglars who were about to bust open my door and rob me blind. No lightsaber could save me from those bastards. And at 4:30 AM they came for me and nearly all that I lived for. But like the armchair revolutionary I am ... I fought the fuck back.
TO BE CONTINUED (THE SEQUEL FEATURES COPS, CSI AND LOTS OF FINGERPRINTING!)
I want your comments! If you're reading this, Email! If you don't, I won't write up part two and you'll be left forever wondering.
©2007 Alex Sandell/Cerebellum Inc. [All Rights Reserved]. Copy this without my permission and I'll cut your power lines and piss on your parade! Really. That's the kind of guy I am.