…..it’s one of the hugest ironies inflecting life, I know, but as his earthly existence hung precariously in the balance, he could never remember feeling so ALIVE! So dynamic! So enraptured! So invigorated!So…..so…..so…..so…..so fuckin’ LUCKY, I tell ya!!!!! Yes, so fuckin’ lucky!!!!! LUCKY AS ALL GET OUT!!! Luckier than a tomcat in a flophouse!!! Luckier than a lascivious hen at a rooster convention!!! Luckier than the undisputable LOAT—sneaky, devious, cheating Tom Brady!!! I know “lucky” may seem like an extremely odd choice of words here, yet that is exactly how this hyperventilating chump was feeling: Lucky as holy bejesus, and intoxicated beyond belief with the epinephrine that was coursing through every square millimeter of his body with the speed of a photon and the blunt force of a Himalayan avalanche. He might die in the next minute, he well knew, but if the Grim Reaper did choose to harvest his body right now he would perish feeling happier and more ebullient than he could ever recall feeling just sitting behind a desk at what passed for “work” or slouched in front of a television set at home watching a rerun of “Seinfeld” for the fiftieth time or just plain doing fuckin’ nothing and feeling both morose and guilty in the same instant for wantonly wasting his ethereal lease on life …..
Fred's Soapbox 