My Kryptonite
So, today I’m tearing down my friends house. Ok, not really his house, it was more like the addition the previous owner built off the back of the garage. But, it was structural, there were sledge hammers involved, big saws, trucks, chains, and complete destruction.
It was like the perfect symphony.
There we were conducting this symphony. Wielding our awesome sledge hammers with brute force. Breaking out walls and smashing floors with awesome strenth. It was amazing. The brilliance behind the composition of degredation; breath-taking.
We were men among men. Beasts in our natural habitat. With the roof now acting as a floor, we danced about gingerly upon the rafters as if, for only that time, our appendages belong to world class ballerinas.
Miss step. I’m falling. [slow-mo] I think to myself, “This is it. I’m done. I’m going to impale myself on a nail and I’m not current on my tetnis shots.”
I emerged from my brush with death, unscathed. Glory to God.
You can always count on a group of young, twenty-somethings, to make sound, rational decisions when testosterone, adrenaline, and excitement are cocktailed. Especially when your mixers are tools and destruction. At one point we were standing underneath a roof that was supported by a single stud, without worry. The fact that the whole place could come down, on top of us, at any moment didn’t get so much as a second thought.
(I’m terrified of water, spiders, and girls, but structural collapse? Not even. Who’da thunk that one?)
We were dancing about fragments of splintered would, nails sticking out from everywhere, tools being swung around without any care of those in our vicinity. Any one of which could have, mercilessly and without grandeur, ruined our day. Claiming any extremity they saw fit, as a casualty.
Nope. These would not be the assailants which would breach our awesomeness, our impenetrable walls, our security in our veritable indestructableness.
Nope. It would be a, so-called, trojan horse. It would be an “Otter-Pop.” Put a nice slice on the inside of my lip. Rightly smarted too!
Yup. After all that, yours truly was done in by a popsicle.
