The Day After

Some days, I hate being me. Don't get me wrong... most of the time, I wouldn't have it any other way. But every so often, I realise that there are problems that I must suffer through that no other person could possibly endure and still retain their sanity. Such was the case when terrorism invaded my personal space.

To those of you who came expecting to hear my tales of adventure on Cato Neimoidia, I apologize. That will have to wait for another day... an unfortunate and all too common side effect of the unusually full and busy life I lead.

Now, on with the tale of my day... a day that was ending like so many others. When you're in the architecture business, you often find yourself making architecture into the wee hours of the morning. The schedule is killer, but if there's one thing I've always been, it's a survivor. Anyway, it came as no suprise to me that the sun was lightening the sky long before I arrived on my doorstep.

After such a day, there can be only one result: Exhaustion. And there can be only one solution: Rest. It was with such a plan firmly in mind that I entered my abode... and promptly forgot all about getting any sleep. I had hardly opened the door before a swarthy hand reached from within and pulled me inside. Never before had my home been such a perfect juxtaposition of comfortable familiarity and the fearsome unknown.

I looked apon this man who had yanked me into the house. He was tall and dark skinned, clearly from the middle east somewhere. "Can't let anyone know we're here" he said with a broad grin and an exaggerated wink. He motioned for me to follow him. It was then that I heard the sounds of yet more people in the house. Brushing past the man, I looked into my living room.

There were four other men in there, all of the same ethnicity and dressed in similar, desert coloured clothes. Several AK-47's were leaning against the wall, the clips for them in a neat pile on the floor. A crate full of hand grenades now resided where my coffee table had once been. One man was trying on a belt clearly made out explosives of some kind. Two others played some of my video games, cheering loudly and often, since these games are mostly about shooting white, although not necessarily jewish, people.

I knew what Iwas seeing. After all, terrorism is a hot topic these days. Every occurance that might even slightly involve terrorists is so thoroughly documented that a person may be given the impression that they are safe at no place and no time. Others may assume that this wealth of reports is merely exploitative journalism, and will soon pass, and there is no real danger to themselves. As is so often the case, the truth lies somewhere between these two extremes. The only certainty is that terrorists can turn up anywhere without warning. Of course, I didn't really need any news report to tell me this... I was finding this out from personal experience.

I stumbled away from that scene, towards the interior of my house. Visions of my own mortality flashed through my mind. I needed get my thoughts together. I needed to clear my head. I needed a drink of water. I headed to the kitchen. I was dismayed to find yet another terrorist standing by the stove. "I'm scrambling some eggs. You want some?"

For those of you who have not had this experience, I will tell you that it is quite a shock. there is little you can do to prepare yourself for it. It is one thing to have terrorists turn your residence into a base of operations. It is altogether another thing when these same terrorists are making themselves quite at home.

I declined the offer and went to get water from the bathroom instead. Closing the door, I washed my hands and face and drank from the tap. I looked a long time at myself in the mirror, trying to formulate some plan of action. But then one of them began pounding on the door. "Hey! Hurry up in there! You're not the only person in this house, you know."

I knew then that they'd give me no time to think. I had little choice but to go along with them and bide my time. Returning to the living room, I sat down and accepted an invitation to play video games with the terrorists. These were my video games of course, so I had the considerable advatage of experience over them. They quickly became irritated with my constant "wahwah wah waaaahh" impression of the James Bond theme every time I won a round, even though they tried to hide it. Admittedly, it was pretty unsportsman-like, especially considering how they always congradulated me on my kill ratios and shot accuracy. So I stopped doing that.

But then the scrambled eggs were done and breakfast was served. We ate mostly in silence, even I ate the little bit left over. Then Akzim Al-Zamfir philosophically wondered if every muslim in the world sacrificed themselves in their holy battle, would there be enough virgins in heaven for everyone? Were these virigns already in heaven, just waiting around for the holy warriors to arrive? Or was the requisite amount of virgins spontaneously created each time a jihadist died?

Predictably, the conversation degenerated from there, and is not fit to retell here to most readers, or even most sailors.

It got quiet again, and when the dishes were done, they began to gather up their equipment. I helped Akzim put on his bomb belt, but mostly stood and watched. I couldn't help but feel a little sad, knowing what was to come. They seemed in good spirits, however, and I hid my tears to look strong. Each one hugged me in turn and bid me farewell. Then, they were gone.

Before I could even begin to think about where and when my new friends would be raining down in bits and pieces, the phone rang. It was Mom, calling from the airport, of all places. First and foremost on her mind, because it's sooooooooo important, was that I should get the dishes done before she got home. "For your information, Mom, they're already done."

"Good," She said. "Because for your information, I'm at the airport to pick up your sister. She's coming home to live with us for awhile."

Noooooooooo! God, I hate this! My sister just went through a bad divorce, and now she's coming back to inflict all her misery on anyone she can. This is terrible news. Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!We better not have to share a room. I am not going through that again. More later.