Factorial

Sleeping in the lab can be a psychedelic experience, especially when you have seemingly infinite self-referential dream sequences...

Midi-chlorians

I am all depleted. The light sabre has been out of my hand for quite a bit now really. All I can feel is that shooting pain from all over my body every time The Emperor's Force lightning strikes me as I say "No" to his order to succumb to the temptation, strike down Darth Vader who is lying next to me barely alive (that is if you can call that Frankensteinian agglomeration of flesh and metal life), and give myself up to the Dark side of the Force. Every nerve in my body working over-time sending pain signals to my brain, I find my strength and resolve weakening. "Father..Please help me Father" is all I can say...

"Sir..sir....SIR...will that be a pack of Marlboro Ultralights?", says the desk clerk at the 7-11 to me. A terse "No thank you" later, I walk out of the place.

"Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes."..hehe!

Details..

Thats what sets the God apart from the rest of us, I suppose. What I mean is, if God were one of us, he would (women's lib, feminism and gender equality be darned), every time he got bored and needed an after-evening tea and biscuits-entertainment (or more plausibly, was mighty miffed with the Mrs. for giving him a harrowing time. I mean, barring this, can you think of any other conceivable reason for the existence of Tsunami, mint and chocolate ice cream or Karan Johar's movies?), give you the finger. But when was the last time that happened. It doesn't because that would make him pedestrian. Like you and me. Human. No sir no! He chooses the ripest of times, when you are bonhomie epitomized, when you are stopping to watch butterflies fly past you, doffing your hats to ladies while opening doors to them, when you are thanking your stars, and not to mention the one who got Lady Luck laid last night, for her warmth has shone upon you today, before He thulps the living daylights out of your joie de vivre. What I mean is, he makes it a point to give you a 25% bonus before he gives you a triple coronary arterial blockage. (Its beside the point that most of the bonus ends up toward the repayments of your debts of existence to Satan's scumspawns at the IRS). Another point in case being that He doesn't just let your laptop charger die on you. He makes sure you have spent fifteen dollars on a peach of deal on a laptop bag, and a week after, just when you are stealing glances at reflections in tinted window panes of shops of yourself wearing your new laptop bag and making notes to self on how smart you look, He makes a decision in the negative with regards to the need of that carpet under your feet and decides on executing the Shah Mat of a move - the death of the charger. I reckon, its these minutiae, these fine brush strokes, that make him a brand apart from us mortals. The beauty of it mind-bending really..!

But then, work beckons me. So back to life. Pip-pip, Cheerio, Top of the day to you and the rest of the rot...May the fores and the hinds be with you.