With regards to Ridley Scott…
“Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?”
Maximus, Gladiator (2000)
An ode to Wednesday, my favourite day of the week.
Your spelling, so cruel;
while some others start their week,
for me, you bring rest.
I love Wednesdays. “Fundamentals of Analysis” is my only class(For me, good stoichiometry is like sex. No matter how complex it gets, you’re still basically going through the same motions as when you first started), but what’s more, the powers that be have made it so my weekend starts Wednesday at noon.
A typical Edge Hill Wednesday night ritual goes something like this: get drunk on a £2.69 2-liter bottle of White Ace cider, meander towards town while singing any of a number of English drinking songs, dance like an idiot in Alpine. It’s simple, but we like it.
Alpine is a new club in Ormskirk, which consists of equal parts hot tubs, pillow fights and men in polar bear costumes. Conveniently, on Wednesdays, the drinks are made cheap enough that one could affordably sedate a small polar bear, if perchance tranquillising arctic mammals is what you fancy.
Unfortunately, I was a bit too ill to engage in the usual debauchery, so instead, I found myself spending some time in the room of my good friend Andy.
Andy reminds me a lot of another of my good friends, the glowworm. The glowworm seems like the perfect bro; always shares his beer, tries to introduce you to his cute female friends, and if you need an extra pound for that midnight donner kebab, the glowworms got your back. But just as you get close to the glowworm, it ties you down with a web-like snare and slowly devours you.
For Andy, he replaces “having a brightly flashing abdomen” with a little thing called FIFA. Back in Singapore, we played the occasional game of FIFA, but it usually revolved around drinking large quantities of alcohol, where when one player was particularly miserable (I.E. me), he would be rewarded with the privilege of downing a hearty number of brewskis. In Andy’s newly taught version of FIFA rules, a 5-goal loss results in an apology to the victor being given online; 10 goals and the apology is done publicly. This has helped to explain the number of men I’ve seen busking for FIFA lessons outside the hub in rags.
After “agreeing” to these terms, Andy, being the sadist he is, proceeds to adeptly brutalise whoever was foolish enough to think FIFA was just a game or that he might extend mercy. Andy does not show mercy. Andy does not know mercy; only victory, and its sweet taste. I found Will crying in a corner, as Brooke played a sad song in lament. My own dance with the devil ended 9-1, and though shaken, I escaped with my life.
But mark these words Andy: My name is Kevin “Danger” Hess, owner of a beaten spirit, composer of a poorly-written blog, and I will have my vengeance in this life or the next.
As per my contract, I am required to present him with an online apology, and thus I offer forth the following in the hopes that it is acceptable.
I am sorry I did not act sooner to quell the unspeakable evil that lives inside you. It has become increasingly clear that there is no help for you anymore. God only knows what horribly cruelty you will commit next. May he have mercy on your soul.