This Means War!

"Yup, I'm flyin' through the air right now.

This is not good."

-Ricky Bobby, Talladega Nights

Sparky says...


The fear of falling. I have always thought it was silly. Then again, that was a fear I was forced to face a long time ago. Cripples--well I guess the proper term here would be gimp--are clumsy creatures.


I don't know when my war with Gravity began. I imagine it was around the time I learned to stand up and take my first steps, which would have been around age three or four. I guess it's safe to say we have been fighting for as long as I can remember.

It is a taxing war. I have never been winning it. I probably never will either. The only reason it continues is because I am too stubborn to submit to defeat. I just keep picking myself up after each attack. I'm sure Gravity is pretty pissed about it by now.

It amuses me to imagine what goes through Gravity's mind with each offense. The anxiety and the excitement prior to the attack, the grand hope! Then the utter thrill and rush of adrenaline when it strikes, hurling me towards the ground, followed by bitter anticipation as it waits patiently to see if I will crawl away from its clutches. And when I eventually do, starting with the minuscule movement of an arm or a foot... I imagine it is desperate disappointment. "Oh come on! You've gotta be kidding me! Again?!! She is fucking getting up again?!!! What the fuck is this cripple made of?!!! She might as well bounce like a goddamn ball by now and quit wasting my time."

To me, this whole thing has become routine. Suddenly, some invisible foot trips me. I have a small window of time where I have the potential to save myself if I can react quickly enough, if I can just twist my body in the right way or grab onto something stable enough to hold onto. Once those few seconds pass, and if I am still heading towards the ground, it's over. I abandon any delusion of control at that point. I know I am going to hit the ground. I simply wait it to come up underneath me and pray my durability counts for something this time. I've actually been told by people who have witnessed me fall that I somehow manage to do it very gracefully, almost as if I am dancing.

So I will hit the ground-- SPLAT! Usually, it knocks the wind out of me. This forces me to lay there for a few minutes, waiting for the ability to breathe to return to me. These few minutes are probably the most amusing part of the whole ordeal since I usually talk to myself through painful gasps, saying things like "Oh man, that was a good one!" or "Fuck me in the ass with a chainsaw!" It's unfortunate I'm usually alone when this happens, I imagine for a morbid audience it would be hilarious. Once my endorphines kick in and the pain subsides, I have to face the problem of getting back up. This part sucks. You have no idea how fucking annoying it is to find yourself face to face with the mud, or soaking in a cold puddle, or lying on the linoleum not quite sure how you are going to get yourself out of this mess. Sometimes, on the days Gravity is feeling particularly vengeful my nice outfit gets ruined, or I cut open the same spot on my hand or elbow and I bleed all over my freshly cleaned floor. "Haha, take that, bitch! That'll teach you to stay down where I put you!"

You may think I would get upset about this kind of relentless force constantly trying to knock my dick in the dirt, but I got over it a long time ago. I know Gravity will never give up. It's always gonna be there, like an evil sibling who pokes at you when you're already in a bad mood. What is the point of getting pissy about something you just can't change? Besides, how could I possibly fight back? It's not like I can bring Isaac Newton back from the dead and demand a rewrite of his theory.

I'm pretty sure one day I am going to resort to living out my life in elbow and knee pads and one hell of sweet lookin' helmet. Hopefully, I will be an old woman by then. I will race down the sidewalks in my scooter, my beaty eyes staring out from behind vintage goggles, making bomber jet noises and screaming Winston Churchill battle cries, "We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!!!"