A Temporary Reconciliation

In the great adventure stories there is an anomaly, a contradiction to everything you know. It pulls at the very foundations of your faith in the hero, leaving you to question, to doubt. It is a brief, but temporary reconciliation between the protagonist and the antagonist in order to fight a greater evil. Today I achieved this brief monumental status, but the events leading up to it were most unexpected.

I began the day a bit tired, having achieved full catharsis from taking in the spectacular depiction of Nelson Mandela and his quest for unity. I arrived at work in time for a meeting, and at 11:00 AM, I headed across the parking lot for my regular blood-letting. I proudly offered them the garden-hose vein on my left arm, and they graciously accepted.

I gushed with the blood-letters about how much I love giving blood, and then gushed literally. It went something like this:

A: I LOVE giving blood. It's so easy with a tap vein that just begs to be bled.

BloodLetter1: That's kind of creepy. Oops! Looks like we've gotta leak here.

A: See what I told you? BEGGING to be bled. Say, have you seen Land of the Lost? I am not recommending it, because, well, it has Will Ferrell in it, but did you see the scene with the mosquito?

BloodLetter2: No, what scene. Mosquito?

BloodLetter1: (chuckle) Well, see, there's this mosquito, and it's THIS BIG, and it gets him in the jugular, see? And it starts to fill up, and...

Coworker who is afraid of needles: (groan)

Nurse: Stop talking about that! He has an issue with needles!

Coworker:(to me) I'll get even with you later, A.

A: (laugh) Just keep thinking, 'I'm gonna win the laptop.' Just think laptop.

Coworker: Laptop. Right. Wait, we get to win a laptop?

True story! It was an unexpected bonus that they mentioned after you arrived for your appointment.

My blood-letting was complete in a respectable eight minutes, and after a little juice and snack, I hurried back to my desk.  I was a little light headed, so I delayed driving to pick up some lunch until I felt better. 12:00...1:00...2:00...2:45... I decided to remove my colorful blood-letting armbands, and the moment I moved my elbow, well, let's just say that I didn't stick around to clean the blood off of my desk. I pressed the bandage on my arm and booked it back across the parking lot to the bandwagon before they left. They remembered me from earlier, yea verily, by name, and hastily re-wrapped my arm.

A: I think I am feeling a little light headed.

BloodLetter: Do you want to lie down?

A: No, maybe I just need a little water...

BloodLetter: Did you drink plenty of water and eat today?

A: Oh, yes, I drank plenty of water....Ummm, hmmm. Ohhhhh. I guess I did forget to eat...

Bloodletter: That would certainly do it...

A: I think I am going to pass out. Yes, I am definitely going to pass out. Here I go! 

Suddenly I was someplace different. I think it was nighttime, and I was talking to someone, but someone else kept interrupting by calling my name from the shadows. When I opened my eyes, I looked up to see this:

Only, who WERE these people, and how did they know my name?


They kept telling me to keep my eyes open, but they were so heavy. I felt just like Will Ferrell after his giant mosquito bite. At last I remembered where I was, and why that young strapping fella was lifting both of my feet up off of the bench. They moved me onto one of the tables, where I stared at this for an inordinate amount of time:

Not very interesting, really. I watched the clock flip for twenty, thirty minutes, hoping my head would finally clear. At last I bid my band of caretakers farewell.

 I finally mustered up the courage to walk VERY SLOWLY back across the parking lot to the door, and took a rest just inside. I took the elevator up ONE FLOOR, and triumphantly sat at my desk, still feeling rather sick. Oddly, the blood droplets had curled up into dried flakes and there was very little cleanup.

I tried to make it home before I got even sicker, but started to feel light headed about half-way home. I pulled off in the closest parking lot, which just HAPPENED to be Pizza Factory.

 I knew I had to get some food in me, but I also didn't want to pass out in a restaurant. Lo and beholden: in my phone was the phone number for the restaurant! I looked in my console and found a dollar and change. It was desperate times. I knew that only the Nemesis could help me now. I would have to do the very thing that was most contradictory, that tears at the very fiber of integrity, of humanity.

The Nemesis and I have had a long relationship. We normally regard one another with politeness, and on special occasions we share a brief conversation in order to avoid offending a tender host who has ignorantly invited us both to dinner. In less intimate circumstances, however, we rarely even exchange glances. The Nemesis has employed evil belly and thigh plumping properties which are intended to be the demise of my fitness goals, and yet the lightening fast sugar conversion was the very thing I needed in that moment.

"RELEASE THE NEMESIS!" The words tumbled from my lips in desperation, and moments later, IT appeared at my car door window. Alas, it was time to join forces for the greater good.

It was a strange, but sweet reunion, like Magneto and Xavier, once dear friends, then enemies, joined momentarily, only to part ways again once the joint victory has been achieved.