Saturday, February 21, 2009

This Is So Me

Nino is late. Amelie can only see two explanations. 1 - he didn't get the photo. 2 - before he could assemble it, a gang of bank robbers took him hostage. The cops gave chase. They got away... but he caused a crash. When he came to, he'd lost his memory. An ex-con picked him up, mistook him for a fugitive, and shipped him to Istanbul. There he met some Afghan raiders who took him to steal some Russian warheads. But their truck hit a mine in Tajikistan. He survived, took to the hills, and became a Mujaheddin. [Increasingly angry] Amelie refuses to get upset for a guy who'll eat borscht all his life in a hat like a tea cozy.

Note that there are only TWO possible explanations? Either he didn't get the note or he ended up a Mujaheddin in Tajikistan. (it's even funnier in French)

I have an incredible tendency to imagine the worst.

I admit, it often gets out of hand. Sharks in the bathtub? Been there. A train derails, knocks out power in the dark of the night and our alarm clock doesn't ring the next morning? Thought of that too. Burglars? Car accidents? House fires? Struck by lightning? Attacked by a phython while browsing through the market one steamy afternoon in Egypt? I've thought of them all - now if only by virtue of imagining them (too vividly, I assure you), I could avoid them all together.

Then again, how many calamitous events can actually happen to one person? Surely there's a limit.

(knock on wood)

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