The Kick

The kick

After arriving home from an evening dance tonight I went to make myself a sandwich.

As I bent over the task of sandwich making the mayo jar slipped from my hand, glanced off the counter and hit the floor with a bouncing thud.  For the briefest moment it lay suspended just barely off the floor. I drop kicked it.

The game winning score was on its way.  The entire stadium fell silent.

The jar sailed through the air out of the kitchen, across the living room and cleared the hearth before it landed with another muffled thud into the ashes of the fireplace.

A small mushroom cloud drifted to the ceiling and slowly circled around the room.

The ref raised his arms, a score, the crowd went wild.  The team mobbed me. I was their   hero.

I slowly put my butter knife down, ate a few walnuts, took my pills with a glass of milk, locked up the house and went to bed.

I lay there in the dark with a smile on my face and the roar of the crowd in my head as I drifted off to sleep.  After all, I had won the game, tomorrow will bring another.

Dedicated to the ladies that I danced with tonight, you were wonderful.

Ben