In to every life, a GIANT GRASSHOPPER will hit you in the face...  

acuteangel2 44M/43F
1 posts
2/15/2005 8:28 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

In to every life, a GIANT GRASSHOPPER will hit you in the face...

God, the sadistic bastard that he is, loves to remind his minions here on earth that they are here strictly for his amusement. With every little gain that a person can make, the cosmic banana peel is waiting to slip you up, and tip you head first into pain.

Why'd I get so bitter? It's a simple answer, really. I'll let you know when I find out.

Those of you who live in Georgia, Atlanta, to be precice, have of course been dealing with weather that is about as regular as an eighty year old man's bowel movements. Rain, cold, oh wait! Sunny and Warm! Wait! Ice storm... I swear, if I woke up, and leeches were falling from the sky I would NOT be surprised.

So, on one of the days that The Weather Bitch decides to bless us with a day that doesn't suck, I decide that it is time to ride my motorcycle. Now, I am not one of those pansy Sunday drivers. I commute to work in 20 degree weather, from Woodstock to Norcross. I routinely put ten thousand miles a year on my spry little Sportster. But a day in February, with weather in the 60's, and sunny? Well, t'hell with having a cold! I'm riding!

So, I don my 'cool weather' gear, and hop on the bike. Never ride without my trusty 3/4 helmet with the raisable face shield, of course. My destination? North... so, I hop on I575, roll on the throttle, and the bike sprints towards the horizon, as eager as I to feel the wind.

Feel the wind... feh. I am feeling particularly 'one with nature'. Seventy-five mile an hour wind is rushing past me, but the air is crisp, and so I lift the faceplate up just above my eyebrows. The air feels good against my skin, and just as I am about to put my feet on the highway pegs, hunker down in the saddle, and throttle her up to eighty...


Something hits me in the face like a bolt out of the blue. It felt like getting popped with a wet towel by a 250 ex-wrestler, and he's really pissed about the 'ex' part. The thought "Oh, my god I've been SHOT!" goes through my head.

I reach up, and touch my face. Of course, since I am wearing my thick leather gloves, I can't feel anything, but when I pull my hand away, it is covered... COVERED... with goo.

At this point, I roll off the throttle, pull the clutch, and drop off to the side of the road. I whip off the gloves, the helmet, and stare at the side of my head in the mirror.

Half of my face is smeared from nose to ear with greenish yellowish slime. The only thing left of whatever the hell hit me was one single wing. I _THINK_ it was a grasshopper, or a dragonfly, or a bat. The slime is starting to run down my cheek, and, oh, is that my blood, or the flying thing's last victim?

So, I wiped the corpse off my face, put my gear back on, and throttled the Harley back onto the interstate, where I immediately made for home.

God had made his point. I kept the faceshield down the whole way...

acuteangel2 44M/43F
1 post
2/18/2005 6:03 am


Boy, someone woke up on the pissy side of the bed this morning. Is the loneliness starting to make you bitter?

And by the way, I _AM_ the center of my own universe. In a space that has infinite boundaries, I simply decided that whereever I am, that is the origin (x=0, y=0, z=0, if you like Cartesian Coordinates.)

'scuze me now. Gonna go have sex with the chick in the 'shiney bra'.

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