Tuesday, 6 April 2010

On wasted miracles

I've taken to amuse myself during slow shifts at work by attempting feats like throwing books on to shelves from weird angles, or chucking things into tiny bins from miles away, with the down side being that if I pull something amazing off, there'll be no-one around to see it. Just now for example, I dropped an ice cube, caught it on my foot, and then flicked it back up into a glass on the bar.

I once killed a fly, in-flight, by chucking a peanut at it from about 3 metres away. There was a small swarm of them fart-arsing around in the air by my open patio door. They were buzzing, but at that weird low volume and pitch where if you tilt your head at a certain angle you stop hearing it for a few seconds. Bastards. They weren't even doing tricks or anything so I nonchalantly cobbed a nut at them and sure enough, when I went over to retrieve my nut (nuts are pretty expensive considering they're just nuts), it was lying next to the fresh corpse of a fly. Unfortunately I was completely alone when I did it so everyone I tell calls bullshit.

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