That morning I woke up with a sense of purpose, a sort of invisible power that was urging me to do epic deeds. I sat up in my bed and resolutely said out loud, “Today I’m going to get arrested!”
Right after I’d uttered those words I heard another voice respond with, “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
At first I thought it was my pet horse Waffles, which would have been ridiculous, because I didn’t own a pet horse. Instead, it turned out, it was my girlfriend. She was looking up at me from her pillow and making that face she made when she wondered what the hell was wrong with me. I repeated, this time with a hint of temerity, “I. Am going. To get. Arrested.”
I could see from her facial expression that she felt it was a very bad idea. She said, “I think that is a very bad idea”, but it sounded like she was calling me out for being too much of a pussy to do it. “Challenge accepted!” I screamed at the wall I was facing, even though the words were meant for my girlfriend. She said some sort of a sentence that began with “I should have never,” and ended with, “ever dated you!”
I didn’t pay too much attention to her words, because at that stage I was already too busy dressing myself. With my outfit – a bathrobe, a pair of army boots, a shower cap – complete, I took the shortest way outside. That is to say I bolted over the railing of our second floor balcony and fell three metres down onto our neighbours’ flower bed. Except, having missed the flower bed, I landed onto the plot of concrete next to it. Ignoring the pain and the fact that my right leg was now broken in three separate places I proceeded to limp proudly to the fields located within a five minute walk from our building.
After two hours I had finally made it to the fields and immediately came face to face with one of Devil’s minions, sent there to drag me down to the netherworld. The minion had cleverly disguised itself as a common sheep and was pretending to stare impassively in my direction. I approached this spawn of evil and, bravely, called out to it:
“Are you the spawn of evil, sent here to drag me to the netherworld?!”
The minion stubbornly refused to speak. I was not to be deterred by this, so I continued:
“I demand that you state your purpose here or I shall be forced to battle you!”
“Alright, we shall have it your way, minion! This is your final warning. Blink twice if you’re just an ordinary sheep. Blink forty seven times if you are, as I rightfully suspect, the second cousin of Lucifer.”
The minion managed to blink exactly once before I punched it between the eyes, just to be on the safe side. I hopped over its back and ran-limped towards the nearby forest. From behind me I could hear the minion desperately summoning the rest of his Hell buddies. This summoning call sounded suspiciously like “Baaaaaaaa! BAAAAAAAAA!”
By the time I had reached the forest I was only able to hop on my left leg, because the right one refused to cooperate and insisted on bleeding instead. My mission – to get arrested – was far from over, so I needed a plan. While I sat at the edge of the forest, focusing intently on coming up with said plan, I noticed a rather large group of people making their way towards me. As they got closer I could hear bits of phrases, including “sheep-punching moron”, “unrestrained lunatic” and “could get arrested for that”. Yes! Eureka! All I had to do in order to get arrested was to punch a sheep. As pure luck would have it, that’s exactly what I had done. Clearly, The Universe had aligned itself to help me fulfill my mission.
The group of approaching men continued approaching me and had soon approached me completely. One of them was wearing a cop uniform and so were the rest of them. “They are cops!” I deduced with my superhuman powers of observation and logic. “Cops can arrest people!” I continued logicking my way forward. One of the cops attempted to speak to me in the language of words, but I let my fist do the talking instead and swung it at his face. Unfortunately, his face was over a metre above me, as at this point I was lying on the ground and unable to lift myself up. Or, more accurately, I was being pinned to the ground by the other cops, which, again quite logically, prevented me from being able to lift myself up. Rather than allowing the cops to have total physical victory over me I chose, instead, to courageously lose consciousness…
When I came to I found myself sitting inside a jail cell with a pair of handcuffs slapped onto my wrists. “I have been arrested!” I concluded, still impressed with my logical prowess. “Wait til my girlfriend hears about this,” I said out loud.
“She already has,” said my girlfriend’s voice. The voice was coming from my girlfriend, who stood by the cell, accompanied by the same police officer who had goaded me into trying to punch his stupid face. The officer opened the cell door and said, “He’s all yours. Just make sure he takes his pills from now on.”
Soon my girlfriend was driving me home. She looked extremely angry, but I thought I saw a hint of approval in her otherwise disapproving look. She turned to me and, through clenched teeth, said:
“This is the last time, Daniel, I swear it!”
But I knew she had meant to say, “This is the last time…so far!”
I know this post was a bit…different…but hey, sometimes the muse that strikes you is called “insanity”, and who am I to say no to it? Is your muse also insane sometimes?