A trifle is apparently something to both be trifled, and tri-filled with. I guess it is an English layered pastry cake dessert thingy. I'm bummed to say I have never had one. I should probably remedy that soon.
About a month ago, I found myself in the middle of a three week stint I will forever refer to in my life as the 'Bukowski weeks.' I was only sleeping a few hours a night, and often felt like I was in a state of traumatic shock. It was sometimes difficult to discern the conscious from the unconscious, or the tangible from the mirage. According to my psychotherapist / mixologist / veterinarian, the imcomparable Dr Jules Quinn - Medicine Woman, this mental purgatory is a primary symptom of Bukowski-ism. The other primary symptom of Bk'ism is an inability to remember your therapist's real name, and the last primary symptom of Bk'ism is to repeat common symptoms of Bk'ism. The other last, last primary symptom of Bk'ism is drinking, which the sleep deprivation catalyzes, especially when performed in conjunction with the final, other last, last primary symptom of Bk'ism, which is listening to Tom Waits records, while drinking (is there any other way?). The caboose of all other final, other last, last primary symptoms of Bk'ism is - you guessed it - blogging, or any of it's reasonable facsimiles.
I stopped at my mom's house one day to collect her water jugs to fill up at the local Your Tap Water is Poison So You'd Better Drink Our Water + (Ice) store.
I walked to the front door(s), which my mother keeps locked up as if she's hiding Jack Sparrow inside her house. I reached for my keys, which should have been on my... key chain...
Ummmmm... Which is in my TRUCK, which I left in..??... NO!
DRIVE!! I turned around to see my truck heading down the street, with the front door still open... Goof!!
After a millisecond of panic, my autonomic nervous system took over, and my head started to buzz. I quickly scanned the potential dangers and variables ahead of me, which included:
* Light Pole.
* Overgrown mesquite tree.
* Parked car, two houses down.
* Mom's freshly watered lawn - oops, I missed this one.
I morphed into amateur ninja mode, and activated the ninja: adrenaline sprint ability.
Fred Flintstone being my body type model (don't be jealous), my freakishly small legs start churning into action, like Freddy's do when he starts off in his car to go out for brontosaurus burgers.
Hmm, maybe Fred Flintstone was a ninja. "Must be at least a level 17 ninja," I quickly muse. "Very powerful ki strike, used to great affect on Barney's head."
Unfortunately, when I hit the freshly watered lawn, my freakishly small, Flintstone ninja-sprinting, blurry-to-the-naked-eye feet start to spin out in the wet grass, just like in the cartoon, and I lost a valuable second catching my balance.
Halfway to the fleeing truck, but before reaching the overgrown mesquite tree hanging across the sidewalk, I realized that even in ninja: adrenaline sprint mode, I was not going to make it to the truck before the open driver's door hit the......
(loud crunchy noise, and a slammed door)
"POLE!!!!!" I grunted, as the light pole smashed my driver's door closed. Ugh.
I dug even deeper into my Flintstone ninja sprint as the truck continued plowing forward towards battering ram target #2 ahead - the parked car...
Looming before the parked car, which I then saw was an 8 year oldish Toyota Corolla, was the large, healthy mesquite tree hanging over the sidewalk desperately in need of a trim..
The car brushed right through the mesquite branches that extended into the street without a problem.
I ninja sprinted through the mesquite branches, trying to duck and dodge the thorny spines. I felt a 'thwack' at least once on my forehead, but in ninja: adrenaline sprint mode, I hardly cared.
Exiting the mesquite, I reach the closed driver's door of my truck. With no time left on the clock before collision armagheddon, I had to pull off an acrobatic, all-in-one fluid move to get the tank stopped in time.
I activated the ninja: flying acrobat talisman.
For a Flintstonian like me, this is not the easiest ninja mode to activate, especially with a long Flintstone torso, a shredded right knee and an extra few (ok well, dozen or two) pounds to support. However, with enough adrenaline coursing through my veins while in emergency action mode, it might not be a problem.
As if in an out-of-body trance, I reach out with my left hand in full sprint, pull the door open, leverage the door with a pull and ninja-dive / jump, suicide pool dive style, feet forward making a flying 'body C'.
I slammed on the brakes, landed in the front seat, and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands - all in the same ninja: flying acrobat movement.
The car lurched to a stop, the rubber wheels screeched a little, the driver's door slammed shut, and I sat there, paused and still, appreciating both the good fortune of not hitting the Corolla, and pretty proud of my Flintstone ninja skills.
I put the car in reverse after the very brief pause, and I started to back up away from the Toyota.
AS SOON AS I DID, a man comes out of the house the Corolla is parked in front of, walks up to the car as I am backing away from it, opens the door and get in. Whew!!! Glad I didn't have to awkwardly explain why I had just smashed the back of his little parked car in.
I wouldn't smash into a car haphazardly for at least another few weeks.
As I put the car drive and turned to go around the Corolla, I glanced in the rear-view mirror, and noticed a large mesquite thorn sticking out of my forehead.
I plucked it out with a wide Flintstonian grin...
I knew at that moment that I had officially earned the coveted Ninja Merit Badge.
It will fit in nicely between Environmental Science and Astronomy on my merit badge sash.
Yabba, dabba, doooooooo.
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