Upon arriving home this late morning from a night of "Donnie Darko" and debauchery, I found my copy of "Literally", the Pet Shop Boys fan newsletter, waiting in the mail. It was a pleasant surprise, since this quarterly hasn't arrived since... well, over a year ago. Halfway in at the bottom there was a brief apology for the delay as well as an explanation: the writer has been working on a book which is a best-seller over in England. I guess I won't fault a fellow writer for letting one project slide while working on another. My own website has suffered while I've been working on a few books.
So, I sat down at my computer, getting ready for another day of writing and email. I happened to glance up to see the soccer player statue I bought myself for my birthday perched atop the old crate it had resided in on my bookcase. Something was different-his chest had three black spots trailing down it. But there was more. His forearm ended in a jagged piece of black resin. He had been wounded.
Apparently, this morning the bookcase was bumped and he tumbled forward, landing on two railroad spikes before hurling himself onto the carpeted floor: a vain suicide attempt gone awry. Though his head survived the trip, his left arm and the soccer ball it clutched took a detour from his body. I found it sitting beneath my chair. The pieces fit together quite smoothly so I believe he can be repaired with minimal effort. The cracks shouldn't be visible unless seen at a close proximity. The again, he's an athlete. He can handle a little rough-and-tumble handling. That's what they train for!
Besides, he only lost one ball. Two would have been catastrophic!