A SUBLIME JOY!

the sublime joy of it...
a sadistic chuckle would escape as restless steads of imagination would be spurred on to hear the satisfying crack! of a brain split open, or an immaculately painted toe nail crushed....or still more soothing, the eyes gouged out and hurled plink! ponk! into the canal.
ah! the sublime joy of it!
it felt like giving the miss to death itself. or, maybe to life...who knows? who cared?
all that He felt, was the 'giving the miss'...yes! that in itself was occasion enough to whistle and clap, to exhale triumphant wisps of breath through the holes of His socks...those very socks! the ones that gagged Him in mock-strangulation, and when the white-hot fear of death numbed Him, eased its hold on Him and patting the prespiring cheek proclaimed- "do not worry son. me, your only ally!"
"my only ally!"- He wondered aloud for four days and nights, gaping at the marvelous circumstances and in the process, paving a tempting dark alleyway for mosquitoes and flies....
and now, the game began- giving the miss, waving a greasy thumb, sticking out His tongue and flapping it like a crazed victory-flag!
how it scorched His heart in unspeakable rage as He saw Them standing a mile away, patting into strict array their carefully-combed hair, straightening out invisible creases on their beige and white shirts, checking for the millionth time the narcissistic smile plastered on the upturned faces of their polished black boots. ugh! how he detested Them! and then, They would click their tongues in distaste and impatience all the while, throwing dirty looks at Him. i am not God!- He would scream in His chest. and yet, They would stamp their squeaky little boots to let Their dissatisfaction be heard....and how well They succeeded, even over the wild cacophony of the metal-and-smoke world!
and thus it would have been, had He not felt the twitch of His sock...the silent message conveyed briskly up his feet, leg and brain. yes!- He exclaimed in ecstasy...the game would begin...now!
so it is now....They stand there in all Their combed-and-polished finery. He halts at Their feet with all due reverence, even aiming at a dramatic genuflection...and then! just as they lift one polished extremity on to the footboard, down comes His hole-in-the-sock foot with majestic emphasis....whoosh! the accelerator springs to life...and off He goes!
off! off! off into the wild free cemented sky, honking away in delight!
and there They stand, seething with anger..."did you see the audacity of that driver? we could have died under those wheels!"
ah! the sublime joy of it all! honk! honk!