Around 13:00 on Monday afternoon Thor got into a snit. He did as he always does when he has a temper to burn off. He climbed to the top most turret of Valhalla and flung a spear of lightning into the clouds. Feeling better, he went downstairs and had a nap. I doubt he spared a thought for that spear of lightning shooting its way through the atmosphere towards some arbitrary human.
That arbitrary human was me. The lightning struck at about 13:00 on Monday and lodged itself firmly in my temple. It pulsed there for a bit and then shattered into a million smaller lightning shards, each which embedded itself in my brain tissue.
Dazed and confused I struggled helplessly with the childproof Myprodol packing at last freeing two of the elusive little pills and dry swallowing them in a single gulp. An hour later it became clear that these manmade gizmos were no match for Thor’s fury. I took two more. And then I took two more and a Valoid to stop the seasick lurching of my stomach. The ensuing dull ache allowed me to get some sleep.
Day 2 dawned and I was convinced I had won, but it turned out it had only retreated to plan and strategize a new offensive, lulling me into complacency. When the second wave hit, I prayed to the Gods to let me die and end the pain. Either they weren’t listening or they just don’t give a damn. I downed the rest of the Myprodol. I may as well have eaten a box of Smarties.
I lay in bed watching the purple bolbs edged with a acid green halo, ooze and pulsate around my eyelids. I opened my eyes when the lightshow started me feel ill again.
By Day 3 I was exhausted. I admitted I could not do this alone. I slouched into the doctor’s office and mumbled at her incoherently for awhile. She must have got the gist of it for I walked on with new scripts for my Thyroid medication, the lack of which must have lowered by tin foil brain shield against Thor’s little tantrums, new anti-anxiety medication and some Xanor to serve as a migraine Agent Orange.
I have waited all day, lovingly figuring the blister pack in my pocket and waiting for this blissful moment when the pain will not ebb or gently recede, but explode into beautiful serene nothingness.