Sunday, March 22, 2009

And now...you die...



It's funny how just when life seems like it can't get any more dull and repetitive, something comes along to make you realize that life is grand and that there's a reason to get up in the morning.

Let me paint the picture. I'm walking down the street in Minneapolis. It's early, I'm tired and I'm questioning my role in this big universe of ours. Then, I hear a-rustlin' going on somewhere. I look over to see what? TWO GIRLS FIGHTING ON A SCAFFOLD!

OH MY GOD!

How did they get onto it? I have no idea!

What were they fighting about? WHO CARES!!!

Are you kidding me?! That's some James Bond shit right there!

Look, I don't own many things. I don't have money and I basically sleep on the floor. But I can be happy with that if every four months or so I see a cat-fight on a SCAFFOLD!

In my mind they were fighting over a briefcase containing the disarm button for a nuclear missle in Roseville. It's pointed straight at Chaska. There's 51 seconds left. The Russian girl knocks the hot British-y one over the edge. She manages to grab ahold of the rail at the last second and is dangling by a finger. The Russian girl puts her stilletto on the doomed girl's finger and steps down and says something like "Mind the gap!" before the British girl falls to her "death". But really she grabs the Russian's leg on the way down and they land in a mud-wrestling pit....and so on and so forth.

Okay, so this is the part of the story where I have to admit something. Most of this story was just in my head. I really did see two girls fighting on a scaffold, though. Except the scaffold was three feet off the ground...




....and the two girls were some frumpy high-schoolers. Not European spies.

But I'm PRETTY sure one or both of them got detention, because their teacher from down the street came out and yelled at them. So I'm pretty sure they won't be attempting any nuclear holocaust battles in the future.

But now I've got the taste. If anybody knows of any Lionheart-esque underground scaffold fighting clubs, please let me know. I totally want to be the creepy guy with the business suit and cigar who throws $100 bills on the ground.

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