The Smiting of My Insert Key: A Photo Essay of Smiting
A few weeks ago, I was writing about how Lot’s wife loved the sexual depravity of Sodom and Gomorrah more than she loved Lot and turned back when God told Lot and the aforementioned whore wife to get the hell out of there before he destroyed everything with fire and brimstone. Lot’s wife was killed by the smiting of God because she didn’t obey and was turned into, of all things, a friggin’ pillar of salt! Man! That’s some creative smiting for you! I bet Lot didn’t see that one coming!
With me being a skilled touch typist, I realized during my writing how the Insert key really served no other purpose than to piss me off constantly. Think about it. When was the last time you actually used the Insert key for what it was designed for? If you answered anything other than “Never”, you are a liar and I think your pants might be on fire as well. When typing, sometimes I press it by accident. I can’t tell I did it because nothing happens at the time. The evil waits until you want to overwrite something or add a word here or there, which could happen minutes after hitting the key! This, dear reader, is the most annoying thing in the friggin’ world to a touch typist and it makes me want to feed live carnivorous insects to children and watch the bloodshed! So, one evening, the rage of ten thousand Wal-Mart greeters overcame me and possessed me and I finally took action. Finally, the time of purification was at hand! Lot’s wife had it easy! This smiting will be biblical in it’s proportions!
I was a God. I was a Rob Zombie song. I was Lou Ferrigno without the green paint and retarded yellow wig. I exploded in a burst of insanity, rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. The sweet, sweet fury was upon me, and just like a repressed Iraqi insurgent with an American contractor helpless before me, I was precise in my actions. I severed the Insert key from my brand new keyboard and raised it to the heavens in victory, crying out in reversed Latin the names of all the gods in Heaven and Hell!
The taste of blood and lightning and Smarties were in my mouth and I savored it like a fine wine from the south of France. Truly, I was possessed by God himself. Pillar of salt my ass!
Then, my mind briefly returned to me, and I saw the keyboard with its empty hole where the key used to spread it’s evils. Something must be done. With a little duct tape and scissors, I fashioned an appropriate replacement for the bastard key.
But, the key was still in my possession. Sitting there. Waiting to annoy me once again and mock me and lubricate me and smear mayonnaise on my elbows and make me eat tainted beef and other nasty things as well. The key was not unlike the One Ring and I was being the Frodo, in this quest to rid Middle-earth from the Insert key evil once and for all. I became filled with purpose once again! Nerd purpose! The quest has only begun. I journeyed to the Mount Doom of my home, so I could finally rid the world of this travesty of keyboard keys forever and hopefully that would make Arwen and Eowyn become sexually attracted to me! As I said before, nerd purpose.
Welcome to my Mount Doom…
Standing upon the edge of the precipice of my toilet with the key in my fingers, I began to hear a voice: “I can grant you powerful wishes, master.”… I paused. Was this a bargain? Perhaps he and I could really live together in harmony. “Wishes?” I asked in the echo of the tile covered bathroom. “Yes… Um, wishes. I can grant them. I… Wishes! I can! I know I can! Just give me a chance! Please!”… “LIAR! I see your mind! Your keyboard lies and ploys will not work on me, vile serpent! Your slaying will be as sweet as nectar for a bumble bee, just like maple syrup and pancakes, or those wafer cones filled with molasses that I used to eat like crazy when I was a kid. Man, those were totally like energy capsules for me. Swear to God, I could lift an entire Volkswagen over my head at age 10 after eating a few of those mothers. They were awsome! Anyway, I am rambling. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Die now, you plastic key you!”
The key actually screamed to high heaven on it’s journey to the sewers of society, with it’s rivers of pee and icebergs of poop and goldfish retirement homes. The terrible death throes of the plastic key were music to my psychotic ears, let me tell you for real.
With a Pavarotti-like war cry of victory that literally came strait from the very bowels of my diaphragm and spleen, I celebrate the sweetest of victories like a beast strait out of some weird-ass jungle movie starring Scott Baio and King Kong. I wonder if this is how it was like for God when he turned that slut wife of Lot into a pillar of salt. I bet God was loving that shit, big time!
The battle is finally over. Victory is truly mine. As always, I have achieved what my delusional mind had decided for me to accomplish. Time for a bit of the nectar of the gods in celebration of this moment of triumph.
Beer never tasted so sweeter…