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Wash and Wax Your Soul

_{Submitted 6-2-01}

Against the warnings of Skruffy and Krispy among others, I went to the prom. My date, though beautiful, didn’t want to go with me, I can’t dance to save my life, and on top of it all, the food sucked ass. I came away from it angry and frustrated at myself for asking my date to go and for even choosing to go at all.

Then it started raining. Not to be overly dramatic, but it rained every day after prom, never letting up, until I climbed the mountain. The rain mirrored how I felt. Then came Friday, I got to hear some great music and pretend that I knew how to play backgammon. It was this awesome night out with friends that prompted me to get over my inner pansy.

So, Saturday I decided to climb up a mountain. The real reason behind this is that I had, in my possession, a trinket that I had received as a consequence of trying to become on romantic terms with my date. And I was positive that it needed to be pitched off a cliff. This end in mind, I briefly contemplated biking up the mountain trail, but then realized that the trail would be a river after the week’s rain. So I hoofed it up the road, which is still a formidable trip. It’s a little over five miles round trip.

A half hour into the walk, it began to drizzle. Distant thunder echoed and I kept walking. Five minutes after the thunder, the clouds opened up and dumped all they had on me. I marched toward the top, set and determined to throw this damned trinket as far as it would go. Soaked through and weary, I summited the mountain. From the cliff at the top, I could see several surrounding towns. Then I noticed the rain stopping and I quickly observed why. The rain cloud that had drenched me on my way up fell around me coating the towns below in the fog. As the cloud slipped to Earth all around me I watched frozen in awe. Then I remembered the trinket. I fired that thing over the cliff with enough force to reach home plate from center field. It flew out, almost beyond my sight, and vanished as it fell into the fog.

Satisfied, I stayed on the cliff top until the fog was so thick I feared not being able find the path back to my car. Turning to get back on the main path, I saw a deer standing a few yards off, staring at me. It surprised me to say the least. I jumped, it jumped, and it flew off into the fog. The last part of my trip was uneventful, except for more rain. Getting home, it began to sink it what a tremendous experience I had just experienced. It was a thorough wash and wax of my soul. The next day the rain stopped.

Then came Sunday, and a party that I should not have. Things happened that I am not at liberty to discuss here, nor would I even if I could, out of common decency. The allegorical effect of this party on my freshly washed and waxed soul was that of a huge, wet pigeon shit smack on the hood of my freshly washed and waxed car. Time to reach for a spiritual wet rag.