Who's story?? This morning it began with my heart arresting in my chest and my torso jerking perpendicular and my head snapping forward to click a small button on my alarm clock, much the way superhero secret agents of marvel comics (with wide brimmed hats) snap their wrist and point the pistol in the enemy’s forehead as if they are never surprised and always prepared and therefore super. Fortunately it wakes me every morning so that I can somehow perform my daily functions. When I was 15 and before I had developed such alert dexterity and ego, I used to hide it somewhere in my room to sharpen these superhero skills and make myself wakeup. I was never fooled or disoriented though, always handily disarming the alarm and going back to bed, which meant that my spacial intelligence was in fact perfect and needing no alarm disarming practice. But definitely indicative of my bad discipline. It is incontrovertible that seasoned superheros don't waste time however much they may begrudge the alarm clock. Needless to say, this morning it startled me more than normal, and needless to say I still delayed in bed between alarms avoiding my superhero obligations. I think all movie hero’s astonishing readiness results not a little from the statistically ridiculous number of occasions in which he awakens, not to the anticipated assailant, but rather a leggy and (as often as not) scantily-clad female (probably Russian), who invariably has need of his distinct services, which in exchange for, she offers a handsome wage—and some bonus service as well. By this I mean, she calls his unlisted telephone number and asks for our agent and then smoothly suggests that she will pay him a fortune and gladly be one of his undoubted but unknown mistresses all over the world wherever his important abilities are called for. I'm just theorizing, but this is how I woke up, prepared to shoot and make love all at once with fate or a leggy Russian. Surely, today was the day.  ¶ 4:11 PM 1 comments