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Short story: take a trip to the temple of the great tomato - humor

 

Jimmy Jenkins Jr. is not an adventurer, traveler, or pioneer. Far from it, Jimmy has had the same job, in the same bureau for 15 years. He's got about 2 years of feast time built up as he never, and I mean never, goes anywhere, not even to the Coast for a day in the sun. He works very hard, is an good-humored fellow, but is single, 39 years old, and boring. Boring is this guy's central name. I don't think he has any hobbies and he never has something appealing to say, just small talk, and the obligatory work speeches. I sought to crack this man's shell of boredom and blandness, but how?

You see I'm the accomplished contradictory to Jimmy, his antithesis, and yin to his yang, black to his white. I live for excitement. I live to travel. Beaches, festivals, treks, alien food, culture, nature, historic sites, and shopping in unfamiliar lands are what make my blood run, my atmosphere fly, and my heart beat closer than the speed of light. I just had to wake up this man from his static, inactive existence. I mean there could be nobody anonymous about this guy; all was right in your face, out in the open.

Well, beforehand I began my "Crack Jimmy's shell challenge", I had more critical equipment to do, like get the hell out of there. The famed La Tomatino Festival in Spain was about to come to pass and I had carefully ordered my trip on the Internet. It's truly amazing the total of in rank and help you can get from all the peripatetic web sites. I like to be controlled and equipped for all eventualities that might happen. My air tickets and hotel were booked in advance, and I got all the 'juice' on visas, currency, and carrying (train from Valencia to Bunol-$3. 00!) from the Net. I've on paper off maps of the city and town, got lists of all the famed attractions, nightspots, and the best restaurants for that authentic paella experience.

So anyway, the weekly festivals were in full gesticulate and I was having the time of my life. A ambiance of impending excitement was pervading the air as each one was in receipt of ready for the finale of the festival- the chief food fight in the world. 125 tonnes of tomatoes to be crooked into human ketchup in just two hours! No one knows faithfully why the tradition began back in the 1950's, but it has befall a bit of a dutiful cause for those who worship the Temple of the Great Tomato, nah, it's in fact Christian. Doesn't affair much to me, I just sought to be part of the chaos-I even wore a white suit. Citizens say this is a allegorical challenge at suicide, but I'm all the time up for a challenge!

Here we go! The argue began. The air twisted red, citizens going crazy at the height of excitement. It seems the white suit wasn't the best idea. I got hammered. Total pulverization. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me as the tomato integrated itself into my soul. I lay on the ground, colonize administration all about me yelling and screaming in Spanish. I looked up all the way through the ketchup dripping densely off of my eyelids. That's when my mind was completely blown away into oblivion, never to be the same again. Eminence in front of me smiling, throwing handfuls of squished tomatoes was none other than Jimmy Jenkins Jr. He bent over, looked me above-board in the eye and said,

"Richard Woodward, fancy appointment you here. "

I stuttered in astonishment, but no comprehensible words came out. Also the shock or the tomatoes in my mouth were creating the problem. Jimmy spoke again, his smile as wide as a tomato-mad maniac,

" Let me let you in on a bit of clandestine Richard. I know you won't give me away. You see buddy, I've got an equal brother. We make it look like we're constantly running for the company, at all times on time, constantly there. But in actuality we're allotment one man's life and when the other man is at work, the other is peripatetic the world having huge vacations and revelry like mad. It exceedingly is hard when it's my turn to go to the administrative center and act so incredibly boring and predictable. Cute cool eh?"

He then lifted a giant (what looked like a genetically altered) tomato and screaming a family yell, smashed it into my face. He then laughed and ran into the tomato-red dusk leave-taking me 'bloody' and bewildered.

About The Author

Jesse S. Somer

M6. Net

http://www. m6. net

Jesse S. Somer is a space-traveling human in suspense to show his fellow Earth-dwellers the covert opportunities found in the Internet.


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