Here we go again.....!!!

The alarm on my phone went off this morning at 4:45. Kinda' strange that my phone is taking the place of everything else that I use to need.....like an alarm clock. They got 'em now with everything. It's a game machine slash mp3 player slash camera slash PC slash instant messenger.......I think you can get the new i phone with a cutting torch attachment if you want.

Anyway, I fumble with the phone for a moment, really missing that big snooze button, then I'm sitting up. Central command informs me that the lower starboard limb is emitting pain. Must have been sparring in my sleep again. You ever wake up in the morning with grass and leaves on your feet? Ya, me either....

So I stand up and sure enough my ankle lights up. I hobble off to the bathroom sifting through memory blocks. I can't figure out what I did to myself and at this point I'm thinkin'..."Man, I can't go to work like this." "Whatever, I'm 236 lbs of bad ass is what I am, and I'm goin' to work!" I reply...out loud for some reason?

Getting ready for work isn't really a comfortable thing for me. Not that early in the morning anyway. Usually I stumble about in a random fashion like I'm having an epileptic seizure in slow motion but I somehow manage to get my clothes on and get out the door. Well, most of the time anyway. Not so easy when I'm feeling something like a sprain.

Nothing wakes me up like shoving pain strait down a long pipe of Levis. On the way out the door I invent several devices that would be most useful in my situation. Not doing me any good. I forget about my injury somewhere in the thirty minutes it takes me to get to work. The first step out of the my monstrous SUV reminds me. Now don't bust my chops for using more fuel than you do. I have eight people to haul around much of the time and at the moment the Burban is all I have.

I drag my lifeless limb behind me all the way to the time clock. I think to myself, "Self, we're going to have to muster every ounce of stubborn we gots to get through this one." Self responds..."idiot." Briefly I consider finding a place to hide. A place where I might lay down.

By rough calculation I would have about fifteen minutes before they begin searching for me. What I would have to do is lay down next to something heavy so that it appears as though I have been struck in the head and knocked unconscious. Not really worth fifteen minutes of rest....or is it?

Ten minutes later I'm workin' away arguing with myself. I hate leaving work early. Oooo! Stepped on it just right! AGAIN! A buddy of mine notices the angry grimace...."You look bad man! Did you sprain your face?!!" He says smugly, cracking a grin. I manage a strained, "Thanks man." Step, ow, step, ow, step, MAN!!! I didn't even make it to break time. I packed it in and went looking for the boss. Fortunately he was near by. He had his boss with him. Oh, this is great, I think to myself.

So I'm waiting for them to finish their conversation when my boss stops mid sentence, looks at me and says "What!" This makes me posture slightly. "I'm gonna' have to bug out early today man." I say in a tone that says I don't like you either. The boss don't like me. Reason being, I deemed a rather large, very expensive piece of equipment in the shop hazardous. The product run on this machine had to be out sourced. It was very dangerous to run. I won and he hasn't exactly been speaking to me since then.

"Why!" he responds. So I tell him what's goin' on while he stands there glaring at me. Before he can say anything his boss pipes up. "Yes, that would be fine. Get some rest." I walk away still feeling the heat of the bosses glare at the back of my head. So, I'm out to the truck, out of the parking lot and on my way to get cash. Murphy says I have to get gas before I leave town. While I don't generally live by his law, a quick glance at the gas gage has me in agreement. Why on this day....

Upon stepping out of the burban I find that it's become much more difficult to walk. $3.67!!! And that's the cheap stuff. Weapons grade is close to $4! Now, if there are any resident Californians reading this, I apologize. I feel your pain and I'm glad I'm out here where it's still affordable. I start pumping gas.

I'm getting these looks from this young woman at the pump next to me. She smiles....says hi just as I'm putting the gas cap back on. Her expression changes into something that resembles dread as I start trying to walk. I look at her and say, "Hi, I'm Quasi Moto, how ya doin'?" I was trying to make her laugh. Instead she just stared at me looking ill.

Back at the house I'm muttering my own home grown profanity under my breath as I lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling. My first trip to the bathroom and back has me convinced that I need a crutch or a cane of some sort. So I stand there in my room on one foot looking for something that I can use to temporarily replace my leg. My wife hands me a stick that's about 2 feet long.

I'm around 6 ft tall. I would have had to bend myself in half to use it. She's laughing at me as I try to explain why I can't use it. I'm across the room from her leaning on my drum rack. Drum racks are like large simple erector sets consisting of pipes, clamps and square tubing. The legs on these things resemble the legs on some walkers that I've seen.

A dim light bulb appears directly over my head. I reach down and undo the clamps connecting one of the side supports and remove the piece. It was about the length of a cane and had two rubber feet. It's shaped like a "T". "Yes!" I exclaim. I turned the leg upside down and leaned on the small cross piece that supports the feet with both hands holding all my weight between my semi normal right step. "Freedom!" I was off to raid the fridge.

I looked like a crippled man trying to ride a broken pogo stick. I was hallin' ass until ran out of carpet. The end I had against the floor was capped with a hard piece of plastic that glided nicely across the tile. Right in the middle of a bout of mad laughter I came crashing down to the floor. Under the incredible force of my falling weight, the pseudo cane was launched clear across the dining room and kitchen.

"What just happen?!" my wife yells. I'm slow to respond.... "Uuu....I...Shakka when the walls fell....." Seems the crash knocked an old star trek episode loose in my head.

Bad thing is I've got practice with the band on Saturday....dunno' if I'm gonna' make it or not.

Ouch!

Five minutes of waking...

Wrenched out of sleep I here the laughter of my 3 year old as he lines up for another headbutt. I can’t be angry, he gets it from me. Not half a second goes by and the two youngest are bouncing on the bed. Nothing quite like having 30 some odd pounds of bouncing baby boy land ya’ square in the guts.

Might have killed me if I were laying on the floor. Why do they always land on their knees? So I roll out of bed onto the floor. No work ’till Monday, I think to myself and stumble off to the bathroom. I stop briefly to watch a car through the window. Rolled by a little too slowly. McPherson county QUD 13 somthin’ or other....I must be slippn’.

Somewhere between the bedroom and the bathroom I step in God knows what but it’s cold and sticks...and what in the world is that smell!!? I quickly enter the bathroom to escape the crossfire of hotwheels and Duplo blocks....the voice in my head alerts me..."you’re being flanked moron! Hit the deck!" Safely inside I lift my foot to take a look at what I stepped in. Do I peel it off or go outside and scrape it off on the concrete steps.

Ah, no glasses...can’t see it. I rip it off my foot and wash my hands. Judging by the smell it’s......it’s......unidentifiable. I turn to the throne and lift the seat and lid with the big toe on my right foot to find an entire roll of tp in the bowl. For a moment my mind begins to calculate the odds that it is still dry. I stare into the toilet for a good 17 and a half seconds.

I knew what I had to do but as you can imagine I didn’t want to do it. I reach down into the shiny white abyss, grab hold of the cold soggy mass and lift it from the bowl.....uncovering a real American hero, GI-JOE. I throw Joe and the roll into the small bathroom trashcan and wash my hands for the second time in the 4 minutes I had been awake.

After using the stool slash cubby I slide open the shower curtain. To my amazement the tub is half full of toys and clothes all coated with what appears to be an entire bottle of Suave shampoo and conditioner. I close the certain and think....Gawd, I’ll take one later.

In our midst....

Standing tall, in our midst........
Standing tall, in our midst, are the thieves of our piece of mind. For it is out of their mouths that come the symptom of what afflicts us. Spawning freely out from their lips a hopeful undoing. To rise as they long onto the backs of those who yield. I...do not. Flame in heart and vengeful gaze I step out bold and defiant. Few words I utter as this blade I let fly. Though many and cunning, all at once halted by their lies. For stands one that knows these untruths that they speak. The darkness held inside. And so they fall. Crushed beneath the weight of the burdens that they hold. Undone are they all by a whisper of what is. They advanced as giants retreating quickly..... exposed. And so small they were that I...standing tall in their midst and as guilty as they, on their backs I did tread. And take the glass of time in my hand. So burn the sands of time to glass. With this great hammer, shatter the past. Turn these stones to butterflies..........make stars out of all my lies....and with this fire purge away the wrongs I hide inside.