This place needs a new smell. Or a window. (Also a vendetta against God).

Posted: November 4, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: Brief...therefore witty. | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I don’t do ‘deep-dives’ into topics for these writings, so what follows might be best described as a ‘splash’.

Or maybe a ‘plop’?

I was about to suggest ‘tinkle’ too, but I really need to focus, especially as that’s what I didn’t seem to be able to do last night.

I went to a pool-hall last night and lost 7-0 to my wife. I don’t think I played particularly badly, but luck wasn’t on my side and my wife’s simple superior in everyway.

You’d probably imagine that I was feeling a little low from this felt low, which I was after the first loss.

By the 4th loss I was trying to start conversation on I’m knowledgeable on so I could retain a degree of….something. I don’t know if being down 4-0 has a counter equivalent, especially intellectually.

It’s never the case that something doesn’t matter because: “yeah, well, I’ve got a degree…”

My wife had even started being sympathetic, which made the whole thing worse.

As I said, I wasn’t playing badly, just bad luck after bad luck. I seemed to pot the white after every shot and every ‘cert’ I hit bounced back out of the pocket.

I could be tempted to say there was something else at play here. Because there was, and it might have been Jesus.

No matter the deity, I needed to get something out of the evening so decided it might as well be a religious experience.

And this pool-hall setting suited a religious experience down to the ground.

Full of men, mostly bearded, with one woman doing really well and making them all feel uncomfortable (“shouldn’t be allowed. she’s got tits to lean on. unfair advantage. dependable tits.”)

No windows too. And that is a bit odd – I don’t think my pool game is worsened by sunlight.

And a smell that wasn’t really there. Vaguely cleaning fluid – but it could have been so much more.

It could have been the sort of smell you can see. Wherein part of the ceremony involves wafting it.

What else does one waft, than a visible whiff.

There was no clear dress code (they even allowed trainers), but I feel some particular garb would have been appropriate. Something oddly stiff in certain areas, made from the faux-version of an animal that doesn’t exist any more. Or a fish.

With all that in place, the stiff garb, the visible whiff, the lack of sunlight and no women – then I could really get mad.

7-0, someone has to pay.

And they will. So now I’ve decide to launch a campaign of annihilation against God.

Surely it was He that guided my white balls to the pockets, He that caused every good shot to reject gravity and bounce-out instead, He that encouraged my wife to be extra-nice to me, making me feel all the more minimal.

That’s probably why he created the world; so I could lose at pool last night. That’s how it felt, anyway.

Having a vendetta like this, especially against the Divine, is very liberating.

Very freshing.

Why did I get out of bed today? To wreak sweet vengeance on the creator!

Why did I go back to bed shortly afterwards? Because I forgot it was a Saturday and we all felt fancied a lay-in, but the urge to destroy heaven is still there.

I’ll give you an update on the progress of that soon.

Quickly to clarify before signing off: pool-halls are religious but could be more so, and that ‘God’ – oh he’s going to get it.

Sam