Drama King

Post LXVI

I don’t think it’s normal for a man from the urban environment to experience a cloud of murky charcoal exploding in his face. Not since the good old days of steam trains, mining, steel working, chimney cleaning and potato exhaust fudging. My fondest hopes for more normality this week went straight down the dilly and became firmly wedged at the bottom.

It started with an alarming burning smell emanating from my oven. It was more pungent than that of a fire. So I had a look-see. This was a mistake. A huge plume of smoke erupted out from the oven. From this enormous explosion, I was engulfed in a myriad of unusual smells and was caked in a layer of charcoal. I seemed to contract a large number of 18th century coughing diseases all at once. It really was as if Satan was being conjured from the darkest depths of Wales. Valiantly, I battled my way through the mildly bad puff of smoke and dived for the window in a leap that didn’t at all massively over-exaggerate the situation.

Needless to say, I got through the incident in one piece. I wasn’t at all still coughing like a wimp two hours later, nor had I burst into tears over the fact that dinner was ruined and I had to settle for a cheese sandwich instead of my big, thick, juicy steaks. Sniff. I’m still hungry.

I haven’t had a great deal of luck with that oven this week. It exploded several times. One time left me so frazzled that I completely forgot about my chips that had been mostly cooked before the oven went boom. The chips had gone cold, so I nonchalantly threw them into the microwave to reheat them whilst trying to figure out the source of a bright orange flash I had seen coming from the oven a little earlier on. Suddenly, I heard a loud crackling sound coming from the direction of the microwave. I looked across to witness a spectacular lightshow full of wonder and whimsy. It was beautiful, a rainbow of colours. But that beauty became terrifying as I realized the chips were still sitting on foil. Here’s a top tip: don’t put foil in a microwave. It may look really cool, but you’re microwave won’t appreciate it. Nor will your underwear.

It was a difficult start to my second week alone whilst my parents are still away. It didn’t get any easier. I haven’t even mentioned the time when I was walking home from the shops with bread and milk and found myself running for my life as an angry dog chased me all the way home. I was surprised when I slammed the front door shut that the dog didn’t just go straight through it. I very nearly armed myself with a pan just in case the dog stealthily found its way in.

And don’t even get me started on the wasp that drank my last can of Coke.

I thought my woe with animals was over. Oh no. A mysterious creature from the black lagoon’s spittoon nearly got me. I am not just attacked by animals. I am attacked by animals that don’t exist.

Its body was about three inches long, a quarter of one inch wide, with at least ten legs. The whole thing spanned around six inches. It lumbered in the air and couldn’t fly very well. It made a buzzing noise identical to the buzzing noise one would hear in an electricity substation, only much, much louder. A constant buzz. Its head had a long stick like ‘nose’, around one inch long, and when it tapped on the glass of the window, it made a metal clunking noise. So, I ask this: what in the name of all that’s holy was that? Bear in mind this is the northeast of England.

I tried to get it out of the window it was tapping on. But every time I went near the handle, it plummeted (it was at the top of the window) straight down, with that nose stick thing aimed at my hand. I had to retreat. When I did get a clear shot at the latch, it was stuck and I had to use all my strength to force it open. The megabeast saw this and went for me again. It brushed past my hand as the window flew open and it escaped.

‘Thank heavens for that’, I thought at the time.

More unpleasantness found its way into my life late in the week as I, a young adult male, tackled the grimy, murky, hair ridden nightmare that was the bathroom. It needed cleaning. It was an awful few hours, to say the least. But it was a Friday, and that was a good thing. The end of the week. It was something that kept my spirits up, that promise of a brand new, hopefully less arduous week ahead.

All in all, I think it’s fair to say that my second week alone has been a tad difficult. Can I get a hug? Anyone? No? Fine. I’ll just hug the wall. There. Lovely and warm. Really warm. Unusually warm. OH CRAP, THE OVEN!

“Difficulties are things that show a person what they are”, said Greek sage and Stoic philosopher, Epictetus (55-135).

Peace Out :|:

(I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. To do so, you can leave a comment by pressing the bubble on the top right of this post and scroll to the bottom of the new page to where it says ‘leave a reply’. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks)

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