It’s a Friday evening and I walk royally to the boys’ hostel with a course-mate, on my way to Block E where I will receive the Elixir to sustain a way of living for we paranormals subtly about our lives here among earthlings.
The normal ones waste no time in tagging our way of living an ‘addiction’… *looks up their dictionary*… *countenance morphs to disdain*… and then there are the millions of minions who have no ken of our way of living.
Few occassions have seen a number of us try to illuminate these ones but the effort is ended with statements as “What do you see in this thing anyway?” and “This game is just too complex”. This thing? Game? Complex? Such punitive thoughts.
I’m home now and even though I have one more paper to write on Monday, the dishonour to my race of metahumans if I did not perform the overdue rites (rituals if you may) of passage from the blue iconed 11 to what the hard-to-mind-their-business humans called journalists term “the greatest interactive game there is”… that word again *smh*.
The rituals are half done, I only flinch at the immense and intense pain purging Football Manager 11 from my life comes with; your Illuminati and Masons shudder fiercely while those at the Smithsonian Institute, for whom I have a passive fondness, become lost in awe. The gods at Olympus point and laugh at these so called powerful ones, only after paying their initial homage.
They are acknowledged with a wave of a hand that rejoins the other to initiate the final course of the sacred rituals. Life refreshes in me as I let the Elixir have its way with my being, more intense than the purge from moments before yet devoid of pain and having me ooze of… “Smithsonian! What word do your humans use for what you feel oozing?” Surreal greatness he manages to reply.
With Football Manager 12 ready *clicks on red 12 icon on taskbar* I savour the new feeling for a moment before morphing back to my human form, to allow me study for Monday’s paper after which… I’ll share the experience along with another from our kind, soon.