sunnudagur, apríl 30, 2006


Punching the send key is like bringing a hammer down on the head of that enormous serpent just as it sinks out of sight. You've been wrestling with that thing for, well, not very long, but long enough to be good and tired.

It is, of course, your own damned fault for hauling the thing up. Your choice. In the light, it was much uglier than you expected. It writhed and thumped its coils against the hull and threatened to capsize everything. It was nastily slippery, too, making every attempt to beat the thing into submission unsatisfying. You did your best to lay it out, though you aren't really pleased with your showing. You aren't even entirely sure that last swing connected with its skull. Damned scaly thing.

But now the cord's been cut. You're walking away from it, rowing back to shore and more solid ground. Later, the experts can argue about whether you hit the thing right or not.

1 ummæli:

tristan sagði...

well, as they say in cockney rhyming slang, "would you adam and eve it ?"

Hvaðan þið eruð