Allow me to set the scene. November 8, the year of our Lord 2003. My roomate Bert and I had had frustrating nights the day before and are on little sleep. This night is not going much better, but has a chance to be spectacular with the viewing of the much acclaimed lunar eclipse. You see this is the second lunar eclipse of the year, the first one being blotted out by clouds moments before the splendor that was to be layed upon our mind's eye! So this, this would be the night to take our breaths away and carry them to a happy place known only to the little people we call Moonlings. Moonlings live on the moon. They are green. They are happy :) I wish I were happy. Don't you wish you were happy Ernie? Ernie???
So on this night we decided it was too cold to watch the eclipse from outside, so instead dangled out of our windows, admiring the moon as is floated above us, a beacon of hope for our troubled souls. I gazed with my binoculars as Bert admired its radiance with Christine from the other window. A wave of clouds rolled over, worrying me for a few moments, but I managed to blow them away! And then finally . . .
. . . the moon began to cusp. Our excitement rose, mine peaking at about 180 knots/cubit, and just as the eclipse was approaching its full capacity of glory . . . the clouds attacked. But not just one cloud, not just two clouds. Oh no. It was a whole water droplet brigade parading through our time of jubilation, destroying all hopes at preserving my sanity for future days.
This of course could only mean one thing.
You see, there was this melon in our room. It had been commandeered from the dining hall weeks earlier and had many potential uses, from a food source, to a canvas to paint faces on, to a small floatation device for drowning squirrels and such. But none of these were as attractive and seductive as the thought of using the melon to test the theory of gravity. You see, the melon now had to go. And go it did . . .
down and down and down, until at long last . . . KER-SPLAT!!! (actually it was a kind of popping sound, like one of those cork gun things except more bass, very interesting noise). And there was much rejoicing! The splatter pattern was beautiful. I did my best to recreate how amazing it was but drawings cannot contain its emmenence and words cannot explain how Coca-colatastic it was!
As you can imagine, the satisfaction granted unto us by this momentous occassion saved us from certain disappointment. While the event did not go without repercussions, the insanity had already set in and the effects of the melon throwing could not be undone, leaving us in a prolonged state of extacy to this very day. What happened from the time of the splatter til now is another story in its own right and shall be saved for future tales from boys who will someday be known as being . . . too cool for this planet.
And no, we were not drunk.
Proverbs 23
29 Who has woe? Who has sorrow?
Who has strife? Who has complaints?
Who has needless bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes?
30 Those who linger over wine,
who go to sample bowls of mixed wine.
31 Do not gaze at wine when it is red,
when it sparkles in the cup,
when it goes down smoothly!
32 In the end it bites like a snake
and poisons like a viper.
33 Your eyes will see strange sights
and your mind imagine confusing things.
34 You will be like one sleeping on the high seas,
lying on top of the rigging.
35 "They hit me," you will say, "but I'm not hurt!
They beat me, but I don't feel it!
When will I wake up
so I can find another drink?"
