Monday, April 02, 2012

Monday's Karma

Eleven hours behind a keyboard. Slayed my digital villain, though. Tired. On the edge of angry. Driving to my usual lonely haunt. And the sky explodes. Peals of lightning lick the ground. Instant deluge. Everyone center-laning. Though there is no center lane. Crawl through the puddles into downtown Gulfport. Daylight dimmed to a purple bruise. Still pouring. Wind turning it nearly sideways. Perfect parking. Ten feet away from the door. Jump out my car. Bolt for it. Half soaked in three leaping strides. Drying my glasses, I ask for a pint. The barmaid says, "Storm blew a fuse. All our kegs are down. All of them." I blindly stare at her fuzzy outline. No need to finish drying. "Back to the rain for me," I say. "I sorry," she says.

And this is Monday's karma: Sober and angry on a defeated ride home through the laughing remains of a dying monsoon.
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