Today I proved myself stronger than I had ever given myself credit for. Not emotionally stronger, or psychologically stronger, or any other metaphorically strong sense one can be. No. Today I discovered my guns. That's right, underneath this glossy exterior are rippling muscles.
At this point, you might be wondering how it is I so suddenly made this discovery. I'm glad you asked. The circumstances were such that I bent steel. Superman, step aside, because you now have competition. Competition that is not only incredibly buff, but who even has social skills and yet still oozes masculinity.
Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. But that doesn't mean I'm not a force not to be reckoned with.
I was putting up lights in the theater today, and I came upon a light that thought it could get the upper hand. It fought gravity and tried every trick in the book to make me drop it. But lest we forget, I am extremely competitive. And I was not about to let any two-bit light feel the satisfaction of having beaten me. No.
What had started out as a friendly interaction of me simply trying to put up the light quickly turned into a life and death struggle. I took the light by the yolk (or handle, if you will), and moved it into position. As I aimed to fit the bolt through the hole, the light swung from side to side, trying to knock me off course. I resisted, using only one arm to do so, as the other arm's hand was holding the nut. Muscle strained against metal, but with a burst of strength, I pulled the light back into place.
Suddenly, and without warning, the light dropped downwards, making a beeline for the floor, where my innocent foot lay perched for support. Fighting the urge to punch the light's lights out, I dropped the nut and grabbed hold of the yolk with my other hand. Once I had regained control, I thought, "That's right, bitch! Take that!" Whether the light was telepathic remains to be seen, but the point is, I had gotten the upper hand, and it knew it.
The light sensed it was losing, and so it changed tactics. It eased up, lulling me into believing that it had accepted defeat. Again, I repositioned it with the bolt and slid it into place. I placed the washer underneath, and then began to screw on the nut. It was then the light struck back, a surprise attack!
The light had given way to gravity on only one side! This made it very difficult for me to hold it steady, as I had lost control of one half of it. But I was not about to give up, not then, not ever. With lightning-quick reflexes, I tensed all the muscles in my arm and tightened my grip on the yolk. I strained with all my might, not about to let the light move another inch. I held it steadfast, and quickly grabbed the washer and nut and slapped them into place.
With sheer agility, strength, and speed, I secured the nut on the bolt. Before the light even knew what was happening, I was screwing the nut on tighter and tighter. I grabbed the wrench by my side and, using pliers to hold the bolt in place, continued screwing that nut tighter and tighter with a skill as yet unmatched by anyone the light had ever encountered.
I continued screwing, clenching my teeth, my face scrunched up in an expression of victory. Faster and faster, I screwed the nut into place. Adrenaline pumped threw my body, allowing me to secure the light in place that much better. At last, I stopped, knowing that I had won. Always one to have the last word, I said, "That's what you get when you mess with me, Light. You lose!"
As I slowly came down from my victorious high, I surveyed the scene. In the heat of the moment, I had tightened the light into place so well that the steel beam on which it was secured had actually bent. An unfortunate victim of circumstance, but sometimes that's just the price you have to pay. In any event, I blame the light.