My Spork Thinks He's Batman

As I write this, I am coming directly from an exercise in submission. I am completely focused, relaxed, calm, at ease. I feel open, vulnerable, beautiful, and completely at peace. Over the past week or so, life has really gotten in the way of where I needed to be on this road, and I've been hanging out over in the weeds on the side of the road. Still on the road. . . . . . . . . . but barely. I've been short tempered, and ridden with anxiety and stress. The session put me directly back where I needed to be. . . . . . . . . . and it feels a bit like coming home. I have this open, glowing, peaceful happiness that has overtaken my spirit and demeanor, and it fits me like a glove. . . . . . . a glove that I had lost for awhile. *simply* I feel good. I feel like his. I feel as if I'm back where I belong.

Now, I promised you guys, yesterday, a funny story. *slight grin* This is one that I haven't told before. . . . . but one that oughta make you laugh. I now present, straight from Keagen's Real Life. . . . . . .


MY SPORK THINKS HE'S BATMAN!!!!

Characters involved. . . . . . . . . . at first, just Jessa, myself, and a third roommate. Soon, though, that list would grow to involve, far, far, far more.

Now, it was a sultry August day in Kentucky, and, alas. . . . . . . . . . . I had ran my poor little Saturn out of gas. . . . . . . . again. I like to test limits. I like to know EXACTLY how far something will go. . . . . . . and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I could drive the car HOME. What I didn't know is that I had come SO close to the edge of "running out of gas" that I couldn't drive the car back to the gas station. . . . . . . . . which was LITERALLY within site of the house, and less than a quarter of a mile from the house. Oops. Big oops.

Now, we needed my Saturn. Sarina, my third roommate, had her first day of college classes. So, we waltz outside, only to discover that there is only enough gas to turn the engine over. . . . . and then die.

Well, that just couldn't be! Not on THIS important day! So, being female, we decide we just needed to try again. . . . . . . . . and again. . . . . . . . . . and again. Needless to say, (amazingly enough!) NOTHING changed.

So, we grab our one-gallon gas can, and go to trek off to the gas station. All three of us girls go, because, of course, one of us just isn't enough! We dutifully fill our can to the brim, and begin to lug it back to the house. . . . . . . . . . . . . only to discover that it wasn't REALLY a gas can. . . . . . . it was a mixing can, to make two cycle with. Ummm, oops?

Regardless, we decide to try this any ways. Sarina has to get to class, after all! So we try to stick the short little nozzle in the gas tank, and we try to hold it open to get gas in it. . . . . . . . . and all we're succeeding in doing is spilling gas ALL OVER US. Sarina is standing by, about to cry, as her first day of classes is NOT starting well. So, together, between the three of us, we come up with a REALLY great idea. A funnel, and a cup, should work WONDERFULLY.

We go about finding what we need. . . . . . . . . . . only to discover that. . . . . . . . . . we didn't exactly have a funnel. Well, that was the deal-breaker. . . . . . . . . or was it?

Jessa looked around, and her face lit up as she found. . . . . . . . . a spork. Yes, that little plastic half fork/half spoon THING. Beaming like a child at Christmas, she brought it over as she explained her idea. She would hold the flapper-thingy (exact words, I swear!) open with the spork, while Sarina (with her much smaller fingers) could pour the gas into the tank. Problem solved! *beaming*

Boy, three girls have NEVER been more wrong. See, gas makes things slippery. . . . . . . like plastic sporks. When those sporks break, there are really BIG problems. Jessa BROKE, yes, BROKE the spork. I'm standing by, supervising this operation, thinking, "This was so NOT a good idea." as I hear one phrase: "Uh-oh."

Now, wars have been started over that phrase. That is a REALLY BAD PHRASE. I looked at Jessa. "Uh-oh? There can be no uh-ohs!" She gave that nervous little giggle. . . . . . . . that one that says, "This is a REALLY BIG UH-OH."

She goes, "Umm, Keagen. . . . . . . . the spork broke." I just looked at her. "Ok, so get it out." She started laughing. Not just any laughing, but that really high-pitched, nervous, loud, continuous shaking laughing. I looked closer. . . . . . . . . . . to see her fingers wedged into the gas tank, holding onto the spork.

I FLIPPED THE FRICK OUT. Like, seriously, I was now SERIOUSLY protective of my gas tank. Plastic? Heat? Gas? Gas tank? Fuel lines? I didn't know ANYTHING about cars, but none of that sounded good. So, I very gently, and calmly, and patiently directed Sarina with her itty-bitty fingers to uh, get in there, and take the spork from Jess, and bring it out. She decided that tweezers, yes, tweezers, were a good idea. She could worm in there, tweeze the spork piece, and pull it out.

Perfect solution! All three of us girls were standing around, nodding in approval of this plan, as Sarina ran upstairs to get the tweezers. She brought them back, tweezed the spork piece, and went to pull it out. . . . . . . .

We were about to sigh a HUGE sigh of relief. . . . . . . . . as Sarina said, "Ut-oh." My blood froze. I kid you not. Like, that "Get upstairs; you're getting the worst spanking of your life" kinda blood froze. Not that I expected to get spanked over this . . . . . . . . . . that thought was the FURTHEST thought from my mind. No, I was just imagining the possibilities of heat, and plastic, and a SPORK floating around my gas tank! And then. . . . . . . . . .the thought REALLY hit home. . . . . . . . . This was a really bad idea.

So what's a girl to do? Find out tomorrow. :-D