Tales of an intrepid alter ego

Since this blog deals with my alternative personality, I am going to describe an item that I always carry around imaginarily, which proves very useful when dealing with undesired people. I must warn that this one is a bit violent so if you tend to have nighmares, come back tomorrow; I’ll write about something less brutal. I guess I’ve been using imaginary weapons since I first watched an episode of Highlander: The Series where the guy was almost naked, and he pulls a sword out of nowhere. Either he was carrying it in his ass, or he imagined it. I prefer to imagine my weapons. There’s just something about sticking things up my ass, that I’m not quite comfortable with.

I thought to myself: “How cool would it be to have a medieval weapon ready to do some damage when needed?”. I haven’t left home without it ever since. It is useful in all kinds of situations where you can’t actually explode because of reasons beyond your reach. For example, when your boss tells you at the last minute that you have to turn in a report, exactly the afternoon you were planning to leave early for a date with a hot redhead. Of course you have to sit down and do the damn report, but your alter ego can mentally balance the situation just by pulling out the old sword and beheading him with one clean swing.

How about that government clerk that says “I’m sorry sir, but you filled out form 8378793-C, and you had to fill out  8378793-F” after standing in line for almost an hour? You can’t actually grab him by the neck because of many reasons dealing with good social behavior, respect, and tolerance. Although, it’s mostly because it’s a federal offense. But you can well take out your imaginary ball-and-chain with spikes, and make him look to the right for the rest of his pathetic little life. That is, of course, if his eyes remain in their sockets.

There are many variations to the “imaginary weapon”, like light sabers that you activate in a crowded elevator, making some instant room. One of my favorites, is just talking into your sleeve, saying “shooter, take the shot!”. A bullet comes out of the bushes and voilá, annoyance eliminated. That one is reserved for relatives that are making a fool out of themselves in front of your new girlfriend.

On december 21 I had a Christmas gathering with some of my highschool classmates, that served the purposes of an “eight year” reunion. I never graduated with those guys. I had to repeat the year because I failed German. That night, I remembered why I had been so happy, never having to sit among them anymore. Some of them were boring and the rest were, and still are, assholes. My alter ego, patiently waited by the door, setting up the gadget’s mechanism as I went around the big table saying good bye to everyone. We walked out of there keeping our cool, and as the big wooden doors swung shut, my alter ego just let a granade slide inside the room, dismembering those bastards and blowing everything to smithereens.

It’s just therapeutic. What is your weapon?