Slaying the Sloths

Distance is our greatest barricade, and the diligence to meet and succeed that distance length for length, and hour for hour, is our most successful plan of attack. Without persistence in this plan, there is little, if any, hope in containing the threat of distance, and the enemy will have formed a barricade as imposing — but also as penetrable — as Hitler’s Atlantic Wall.

Just the other day, I was hanging out with Jimi and Alison at Abebe’s house. The driving conditions were abysmal, and, even though I am 19 and can assert my independence from the guardians, my parents shouldn’t have let me out. It took me four attempts to back out of the driveway, but in my defense: 1) My side mirrors weren’t any help. 2) I kept turning early because my side mirrors were useless.

Despite the driving conditions and horrible experience in the driveway, I made it safely to Abebe’s house, and Jimi and I proceeded to watch the end of Star Wars Episode 1. We watched and hoped Qui-Gon wouldn’t die, I realized Darth Maul’s light saber doesn’t break until he fights Obi-Wan, and Jimi recited some of the lines moments before they were uttered on screen. Then we went to the mall — despite the abysmal conditions. Then we came back with Alison and we watched a movie until 2 AM.

Was that foolish? In hindsight, no. I wasn’t snowed in, but I did have tons of snow to shovel back home. This was the first sloth, the first barricade. He was beckoning me back to the warmth of my parent’s house, and into my bed. At this point I was rather energized from seeing two good friends, and I acted on impulse. I didn’t want to sleep so I took out my light saber (color to be determined, but I guess technically you have to find the rare crystals that will determine the color of your saber, so it won’t be I who determines the color), and drew a nice line laterally along the sloth. Then I started to shovel as the sloth lay on his side, bleeding his mucus-greenishyellow interiors onto the driveway as it seeped into the wet and heavy snow.

Ours is a circle driveway. Often, if you read my 100 Things, I pretend I am shoveling for Hitler, and if I don’t shovel fast enough, Hitler will step out of his car as he arrives and give me a case of lead infection in the cranial area (#87). I finished shoveling the drive that we use the most. Then I started the secondary, the circle part of the circle driveway. It was tough — so tough that I broke our oldest shovel, but in my defense, this was going to be its last winter anyway. I returned to our arsenal of shovels, ceremoniously placed the former shovel to rest, and then picked up a smaller shovel so I could toss the snow further, and proceeded with that strategy on the secondary drive. Then, as my Michael Jackson playlist had exhausted itself, I thought to myself, “What the heck? I can do this tomorrow.” Sloth number two.

I began to multitask, shoveling and staring this sloth down. This one was a female, and she was seductive. I have never ever laid with a sloth, but — this one, man — this one was enticing. She lazily drew closer, her body dragging her extremities, and her extremities dragging her body. I squinted the sexiest squint I am capable of, and drew closer as well, albeit more cautiously and upright. As she raised her right arm and curved hoof to draw me in — in order to, I am supposing, give me a sloppy kiss — I threw the shovel to the ground between us, and dictated, “That’s enough!” and proceeded to draw my light saber to slay this one in the fashion that she would no longer have a head. It was a clean incision, and she stood there motionless, a very common characteristic in this species. Then her head slid off to the left, as I had made the incision at an angle from the upper right down to the lower left of the neck. I gave my eyes a dramatic roll, and then proceeded to boot the head across the street into the neighbors yard. I let the body rot in the driveway, as I hastily finished the secondary drive.

The point of this entry is rather simple: Slay the sloths. The thing that keeps us from achievement is the sloths. They encourage us to put the shoveling off until tomorrow, and then tomorrow the sloths will catch us and turn us into one of them. Then we will do to others as the sloths did to us. There is, however, the story of when I did become a sloth, and how I came out of that dreary spell. I should save that one for later, though. In the meantime, you should simply seek to slay them. May the force be with you.

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1 comment
  1. Tika said:

    Hahaha!! That was really clever and fun to read!! Love it! And sooo true. Unfortunately I dont have the same willpower as you do, seeing as I am on the computer right now instead of doing homework 😛

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