I was the targeted victim of a cruel attack today. For the first time in my life, I was subjected to the inhumane violence of a thoughtless brute, still in his yellow-and-black-striped prison uniform. It was completely unforeseen and unprovoked.
There I was, lounging comfortably in a cushioned chair in the third floor office of my mentor at the DC. It was a cozy nook, with one wall comprised of windows to let the sunlight stream in. All the windows were entirely shut. The door to enter the office was also shut to allow for privacy during our interview. Naught was to be heard but our conversation.
I shifted in my seat and suddenly felt a tickling sensation on my right elbow. Believing that I had unwittingly brushed up against a frayed piece of fabric or something of the sort, I shifted position a second time. This only made the tickling become rather more painful. At this point in time, my sympathetic nervous system kicked in and I reflexively swung my left hand around to swipe away the problem from my elbow.
It sounded a little like a malfunctioning taser. Bzap. My attacker fell fluttering jerkily down to the ground between my seat and my mentor's. I twisted my arm around to see what damage he had inflicted to my elbow, not yet having processed the situation. What shock to face the unexpected termination of my oft-wondered-at 21 year streak of good fortune! Could it really be the case that after such a good record, this, perhaps my most important sensory organ, had finally been violated? Indeed, it was true.
He should have known - nobody smaller than my fist attacks Carla and lives. My mentor came valiantly to my rescue, grinding the assailant to the ground under her foot. Vengeance was served.
Unsure of whether or not I was allergic to the pollutants so kindly forced into my body by the executed criminal, my mentor found some ice and a tea towel with which for me to compress the wound, in hopes of slowing the spread of the poison. This I gladly took from her. She expressed her confusion over how on earth such a being could have resided in her office without her knowledge of his presence. After apologizing for the damage done to me on her watch, we settled back down and resumed our conversation.
And I did not go into anaphylactic shock.
"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." Mark Twain