big battery

 

Now: about that Big Idea of mine. Before you go deciding my big idea isn’t feasible, however, it’s important to note that what I am about to tell you is exactly what I saw on the TV that night. EXACTLY. It was a video of this guy trying to set the world record for breaking cement blocks on his head. True story. If you don’t believe me, check it out yourself.

This big lug had two guys set these blocks of concrete on top of his head like a big sombrero while his friend dropped bowling balls on him from ten feet above. I don’t know about you, but anyone dropping bowling balls on my head is no friend of mine.

He kept doing it over and over, presumably until he broke the world’s record. I mean, this guy must have already been half brain dead to even come up with an idea like that. But one thing’s for sure: looking into his eyes after each time those cement blocks broke, I knew this guy didn’t have even one coherent thought in his whole head. It was like he was in hobo heaven. He gave a whole new meaning to the term “blockhead.”

Well, I didn’t have a cement block, a bowling ball, or a friend to help me out either. What I did have was this big old car battery I found in the basement down there.

Did you know that more and more of the homeless are getting off the hooch these days? That’s right. I have it on good authority that today’s winos are trading in their bottles for battery acid as a way of catching a buzz. Where are they getting all these batteries? From abandoned cars, of course.

While battery acid alone is far too sour to stomach, they’ve discovered that mixing it with Sweet ‘N Low creates a sweet, almost tangy taste, much like orange juice. They call it “Twang,” and it’s all the rage down on skid row. It’s even rumored to cure tapeworm. Some side effects do include, among others, the disintegration of one’s own belly button.

So I sat back in that old La-Z-Boy® and, putting to use the Tex Ritter rope, hoisted that big battery up and over one of the steel girders that held the place up. That battery must have weighed fifty pounds. You know what car batteries are made of, don’t you? That’s right: lead.

What I needed was a direct hit. What I mean is, that battery needed to land square on the flattop of my head. Not enough to do permanent damage. Remember, killing off too many brain cells in any one area can result in blurred vision, slurred speech, loss of muscle coordination, even paralysis. And certainly not enough to kill me. I wasn’t suicidal, after all. I just wanted to be cured. I waited until that battery stopped swinging, until it was perfectly still, right square above my head.

Did you know that mold grows rampant in a damp basement? Especially on the ceiling. Mold produces billions of mycotoxins that are eventually released in the air and can be poisonous. Over time, exposure to these toxins can result in decreased attention span, problems with concentration, even memory loss. Over time? I didn’t have the time. If I was going to win Fanny back, the time was now. I let go of the rope.

Hi. My name is Arlen Schmeck, and I’m a perfectly normal human being. At least, that’s how I look on the outside. Technically speaking, however, that’s not entirely true. There is one small little item, hardly even worth mentioning.

The thing is, I have no philtrum. You know what a philtrum is, don’t you? It’s the little indentation that runs from the bottom of your nose to the top of your upper lip. Everyone’s got one, but not me. Seems like an odd thing to bring up now, but it’s something that’s always bothered me. Nobody notices, though. Fanny never did.

When I was a child, I always wondered why. I used to go around looking at everyone else’s philtrums, which in retrospect was a strange thing to do. As far as I knew, I was the only one who didn’t have one. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized why.

When a child is born, so the story goes, the Archangel Gabriel comes down and touches his finger to its upper lip. In essence, he is telling the child, “Hush now, little one. All in due time.” What he is doing is making the child forget everything it already knows about the Universe, until the day it returns to the heavens above. It’s what makes life bearable for humans during their stay here on Earth.

Gabriel is the Angel of Mercy. But there was no mercy for me. The reason I have no indentation above my upper lip is because, for whatever reason, Gabriel forgot all about me. But I still had faith. Gabriel is also the Angel of Resurrection.

When that big battery hit my head, all that awful knowledge went flying out like so many bad memories.

Suddenly, my mind was clear. So much so, it didn’t even bother me that Stachybotrys chartarum, better known as Black Mold, thrives on damp cement, and can cause inflammation of the heart, seizures, even cancer. Nor did it bother me that similar types of mold, dangerous neurotoxins like Cladosporium, Aspergillus, and Drechslera, can lead to swelling and bleeding in the lungs.

Nothing bothered me anymore. Why? Because I was cured, that’s why. At least, that’s what I thought.