Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Never Drink and Drive…oh and also, you should Never Drink and Climb.
Araman's Net User Note: After showering in the Park fountain, smelling less like Dog Urine and more like Chlorine, I broke into a book store and accessed the net to update this blog, while catchung up on some Greek Mythology.
Stumbling along one of the many thousands of city backstreets, blind-drunk and famished, I was unexpectedly drawn towards a small hole in the ground like a toddler to a red button. Situated on the left side of the road - completely open, unguarded and alluring there was a hole that went directly downwards. Looking down, there was only darkness. In what seemed like an immeasurable amount of depth, the first thing I thought to do was to drop something down it.
As the only thing currently in my hand was the bottle of Scotch Whiskey, I released it from my grip falling from the top of the hole, listening and waiting for it to end its deep, dark, downward journey. With a shock, almost equivalent to realising you’ve fed your pet Cat, Snail Pellets, and your garden, Cat food in it’s stead – It took me no time at all in realising the downright idiocy of my actions. With a low thud – glass onto mud, the bottle reached the manhole’s end, unbroken. Incredulous and infuriated by what I’d just done, I took to lowering myself into the hole, feet first, lowering myself down to my waist – squeezing tightly, sucking in as much air as I possibly could. I was going in to fetch my drink.
Disregarding my intentions – what they were while I was heading down the hole, and what my idea was upon climbing back up once I had retrieved my bottle – I became exceptionally stuck, immobile and stagnant. In hindsight (which to me, simply means thinking clearly after intoxication) this was the best possible outcome to attempting to climb down the hole. I didn’t want to even consider what my fate would have been had I actually made it down to the bottom – probably death as Rat fodder. And there I stood, reduced to only half my height, stuck from my waist down in a dark, alien hole (nothing like the Drain pipes near my alley.)
It was only until daybreak when a Meals on Wheels employee drove past, noticed my situation and stopped, got me out after almost half an hour of pulling and squeezing and gave me some carrot sticks and water before sending me on my way.
Upon inspecting my waist line, I found that there was one long, red and purple line that ran around my body in a perfect circle – and upon inspecting my Hessian shirt, I found that the odd stray dog, urinating on me in the wee hours of the morning not only smelt awfully bad, but had given me a matching red rash on my neck and upper back.
Composed by Joel at 10:33 am 
ARAMAN PROOLKS
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