Headache

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Headache

Goddamned splitting headache. In the traffic jam, the river flooding one street behind us, with nothing to read and I can’t listen to music because the radio is broken and I forgot my MP5 at the office. My eyes are burning in pain, so I can’t even look to the beautiful drops of rain flowing out the glass. The rain is so intense. Instead of worsen the headache; the noise begins to calm me down. Calm me down. Down the street, the water is flowing. People started to get out of their cars and run away. When the water begins to enter in my car – this cart is antediluvian – sincerely, I think: this is a good way to die. To lie in peace. But Dawkins was right. I don’t have kids, so some genes probably forced me to open the glass. The cars packed in the street was levitating in water, hitting each other. People are crying, some of them talking in mobiles, desesperately jumping on the roofs of their cars. I just come through the door, the water almost entering in above it, and launch me over a pickup truck bonnet. So I jumped in the roof of a Minicar which is dragging down by the stream and, quickly, I jumped into a tree. After all these years, I realized that climbing all those trees in school was more important than learn biology. Hugging a massive branch like a lover, one of that idealized lovers who save our lives even if they’re despised, I watched people and cars and trash and tears going down in a choleric tributary to the new avenue. It took only about four minutes to happen. The Sims players who grew up into engineers and reached the power probably programmed a population control here. Two hours later, redeemed by the firemen like a frightened cat, a nurse who appears to be a lovely grandma helps me and warm me with a blank. The headache was gone, but few days later, I found that I cached a leptospirosis.