The Ripple! Look Out For The Ripple!

Skidding out of un-retrievable dream I felt mildly erotic.

My eyes fluttered open and foggy snippets of the past (ultra-tedious) week started flickering at the peripheries of my eyelids. A realization of today being Sunday, ergo, lazy day, sank in such a languid pace. Even in my lethargic half-trance I still had room to get bored with how the dawdling velocity my mental synapses/train of thought slithered into full comprehension. I debated with myself the incentives of sliding out of downy, crisp linens: is it worth it? Should I anticipate the overdue apocalypse, while ecstatically passed out, dreaming of perpetually swigging melon smoothies in Grecian sands? Should I cave in to masochistic streaks and haul my languorous buns out of much-needed indolence and start doing laps in the building’s pool? If I get seduced by delusions of humiliating Ian Thorpe’s bum in the next Olympics would it pose fatal health hazards knowing that since Koreans started occupying our building the pool might as well be considered the Chernobyl of Urea?

What’s with this vile habit of people peeing in a public pool? Yeah, right; like we didn’t notice you letting off a controlled, mild shudder as you expel a beam of yellowish ripple into the transparent water! Koreans, bless their sly hearts, are wizards at this! They have this misinformed insistent belief that the swimming pool is a huge, rectangular crock pot! You need not be an expert on facial expressions deconstruction to detect this: when they start narrowing their eyes with that half-pained, half-blissful, open-lipped quiver start your swift free-styling clamber towards the pool’s rails.

Unless, of course, you have this thing for liquefied Kimchi brewed, organically, urethra-style.