In Bloom

(Posted in Muddled Memories)

(Continued from The Christening Of The MadCap)

A wave of excitement was crashing down on me as I dashed through the night back to my place.  This is it, I finally have something tangible.  The steady onslaught of warm impulses shooting through my body were heightening the urgency to get the idea written down.  I wasn’t exactly in the ideal mindset for remembering specific thoughts.  My boiling anxiousness took a hold of my legs and injected them with a shot of nitrous.  As I was jogging staggering through the street, I received some much needed reassurance for my second-guessing mind.

A group of ladies were crossing the street.  Wowww, they could really use it.  As I was shamelessly patting myself on the back for the idea, my trance was broken by a friendly greeting.  Want to take a picture, it’ll last longer?  I tipped my hat, “sorry”!  I’m a complete idiot.  Hmm, interesting thing to note.  Girls spend hours getting dressed up before they go out.  One would think that they do this to stand out.  But, if you happen to be looking in their direction for too long, you better prepare to get yelled at.  There must be some sort of window-of-time you can look at a person rule that I’m unaware of.  Nonetheless, this tidbit should definitely be incorporated into the concept.  It has to look good, but not cause anyone to stare at them; no matter what.  Damnit, why couldn’t I thought of something for guys . . .

I finally made it back to my place.  What the . . . no one ever locks the door.  I reached in my pocket for my key; wasn’t there.  This can’t be happening.  I frantically paced around in a circle, contemplating my options.  Fully aware of my brain’s sub par capability of retaining any thought for more than 5 minutes, I quickly accepted the first solution that came to mind.  I took off my shirt and wrapped it around my hand.  Tyson Time.  I shattered the glass, reached in, and unlocked the door.  I stood in disbelief that I now knew how to break into a house if I ever hit rock bottom.  Putting my shirt back on, I strangely felt like a G.  I’m just kidding, the door was actually wide open when I showed up.  Gotcha.  However, I really did trip on my way up the stairs.  The combination of running and beer gave me a head rush.

Mission accomplished.  I got pen to paper.  This idea will forever live on you Mr. Sticky Note.  I tacked it to the wall so there wasn’t any chance of losing it.  My subconscious in these situations really deserves a round of applause.  It identifies that it is dealing with a dunce and sets up necessary measures to avoid disasters.  Without it, I’d probably wake up on some random persons couch to them screaming.

Ah, what a relief.  I need to get someone’s opinion on this . . . I glanced at the clock and saw it was past 2am.  That’s alright, it’s Thirsty Thursday, who wouldn’t be up right now?  I dialed my sisters number.  It’s a fair argument that she got shafted by getting me as a brother.  What do you want?  You won’t believe what happened tonight.  Did you get kicked out of school?  Nooo . . . I came up with a brilliant idea.  Yeah, just like all the others right.  No seriously, this is something girls would buy.  Are you f****** serious, this is why you called me?  I have to go to work in 5 hours a******!  Damn, that was a a****** move on my part.  But, she hadn’t hung up yet.  Sorrrry, listen real quick.  I disclosed the privileged information to her.  Isn’t that something you would buy?  Sure.  Sooo, you’re telling me there’s a chance!?  Yeah. I hate you.  She hung up.  I gave a Tiger Woods fist pump.  I have a chance, that’s all I need.

I slumped into my bed with a grin on my face.  The best inventions are the ones that solve a problem.  That’s exactly what I got.  I instantly thought of the CNBC profile of the 1 800 Got Junk story.  The CEO of the company stated that he got the idea for the service when he was in a drive-thru at a McDonald’s and saw a pick up truck with junk piled in it’s bed.  He theorized that there had to be a better way for people to get rid of their junk.  In bloom, a multimillion dollar business.

As I was laying there, finally breathing normally after all the running, I started to realize my recent actions provided yet another example of my idiocy.  I could have just typed the idea into my cell and still been at the party. 

I squinted at the post-it on the wall and crossed my fingers that I would be able to decipher it in the morning.  Take note, subconscious.

Continue to Toilet Alarm Clock – Part1 . . .

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Have you ever been in a rush to get something important written down?  Please comment!

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The Christening of the MadCap

(Posted in Muddled Memories)

The Night It Became Practical:

The hourglass overseeing his cozy charade had only a few specs of sand remaining.

Crumpled paper that once had illustrious ideas written on it filled the trash can next to his conjuring chair.

It was begrudgingly the time to call a seize fire with his imagination.

With his cap in hand, he went to join the crowd.

Defeat weighed down his presence,

even the guy doing a keg stand could sense it.

His wondering eyes ventilated his broken spirit.

The cap grew heavier in his grasp and fell to the ground.

While grabbing the damned thing, a girl caught his attention.

A faint flame began to take shape.

A scene from his memory bank jolted to center stage.

The flame began to vehemently sizzle.

His eyes frantically searched the room.

Synapses began to rapidly fire.

A surprise attack ensued.

The sand in the hourglass started trickling into the empty end.

He put his cap on and departed in pursuit of a pen.

Continue to In Bloom . . .

Cheers to sharing!