Manhole Explosion!

No, This is not a walk down memory lane to recount my harrowing experience with the stomach flu, nor is this a post worthy of the possible titillation sparked by its title.

Last night I was mixing some tracks for the extraordinarily talented Jeff Cubeta, when my studio monitors started making a low crackling noise. I looked up and the lights in the apartment were flickering oddly. Seeing as how the wiring in our building is so messed up that we're one toaster strudel away from the building bursting into a towering inferno, I began to run around frantically lighting candles in preparation for an electric apocalypse. Ooh, I like the sound of that. Don't be surprised when I release my electro album titled electro apocalypse just in time for you to check the last box on your Mayan calendar.

Suddenly there was a loud boom and more flickering of lights. I decided to flee the apartment, leaving K in his underwear to fend for himself. well, I mean, I offered to take him with me, but he chose to stay behind.

So, this takes me back to a different walk down memory lane, but not the one where I was simultaneously hugging the toilet and the bathroom sink. It was late one wintry night back when I had hope in my eyes and an ass like a 12 year old Chinese gymnast. I had been drinking scotch and fighting off the advances of lecherous old men who wanted to shower me with platinum visas and buy me small islands off the coast of Spain. I was crossing an empty street when an odd clicking sound stopped me in my tracks. I looked down to see that I was standing over a steaming manhole, which sounds a lot more salacious than it actually was. Like the young fool that I was, I stood there trying to place the clicking sound. I shrugged, oh well and continued on my journey. I got about halfway down the block when I heard a loud explosion.

I turned around to see the manhole cover flying through the air landing and spinning like a sloppily flipped quarter. A steaming crater of devastation now occupied the space where I had been standing. Fire trucks, police, crowds descended upon the scene and I, a bit shocked, sauntered home, having lived to recount my tale to my roommate at the time.

So, last night, I went outside to discover that people were all coming out of their buildings, having heard the explosion. A similar descent of fire trucks, police and crowds swarmed to the front of Phat Albert's discount warehouse where yet another manhole had exploded. The street light flickered on and then off. People got bored with nothing much to see and the crowds dissipated.

So, the moral of the story, dear readers? As tempting as it may be, stay away from a steaming manhole, because it just might be the last manhole you lay your eyes on.