Yes, I said it. Accidents are sometimes fun.
But before you go all Jesus-Christ-she-is-such-an-insensitive jerk up on me, you should know that my father is a pastor. The Holy Spirit, in his modest words, is in my genes. I don’t really care where exactly. Maybe it’s there somewhere on the back of my neck because I can’t see it. Besides, I’ve been prayed over so many times, I can hear my father’s voice anywhere I go. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, I’ll leave it up to you. My point is that if even God’s representative can’t whip me up into a responsible lady, then there’s really not much hope for anybody else to do it.
Now, that’s me. I’m not afraid of anyone. In fact, too many people are afraid of too many people. Why can’t we just admit that we don’t like who we don’t like? Why be so presumptuous? For example, why can’t we just admit that there are certain people who, when they get into accidents, can’t really make us feel any worse, and on the contrary, can even make our day? But, say you, it’s not religious. Or worse, as we British call it, it’s not “respectable.” As if respectability was more valuable than the truth! Blame my genes for infatuating me with words like “truth,” “justice,” or “honesty.” But, again, you’d only be blaming the Holy Spirit.
One funny accident that I don’t feel bad at all occurred when I was at work. If things didn’t end up as messy as it did, with a No Win No Fee compensation claim flung about by my supervisor, I’m sure everybody else would have seen the humor of it. Well, what happened was that my supervisor, who happened to be too familiar with his female employees, once embraced one of them for too long. The poor girl, who was probably new, did not know what to do. Usually, all of us would signal to the other women in the room to distract the guy in order to free whoever he was harassing. However, this new girl, out of sync with the rest of us, put matters into her own hands and pushed the supervisor with a strength we thought was impossible for her to muster. Truly, nothing energizes women more than disgust. Our bald supervisor fell onto the floor and broke his hip. The girl he had been so affectionate with a while ago, he suddenly degenerated into a “disrespectful hussy.” She was, again, demanded a No Win No Fee compensation claim but thank God, the suit was rejected. Nevertheless, she was then fired soon after.
Now, tell me: is it wrong to feel happy, even vindictive, by seeing how this pervert got his just desserts both by getting injured and losing his case? I think not. Absolutely not. How about you? The girl, by the way, found work three weeks later. I know because she’s currently employed by my sister.
But before you go all Jesus-Christ-she-is-such-an-insensitive jerk up on me, you should know that my father is a pastor. The Holy Spirit, in his modest words, is in my genes. I don’t really care where exactly. Maybe it’s there somewhere on the back of my neck because I can’t see it. Besides, I’ve been prayed over so many times, I can hear my father’s voice anywhere I go. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, I’ll leave it up to you. My point is that if even God’s representative can’t whip me up into a responsible lady, then there’s really not much hope for anybody else to do it.
Now, that’s me. I’m not afraid of anyone. In fact, too many people are afraid of too many people. Why can’t we just admit that we don’t like who we don’t like? Why be so presumptuous? For example, why can’t we just admit that there are certain people who, when they get into accidents, can’t really make us feel any worse, and on the contrary, can even make our day? But, say you, it’s not religious. Or worse, as we British call it, it’s not “respectable.” As if respectability was more valuable than the truth! Blame my genes for infatuating me with words like “truth,” “justice,” or “honesty.” But, again, you’d only be blaming the Holy Spirit.
One funny accident that I don’t feel bad at all occurred when I was at work. If things didn’t end up as messy as it did, with a No Win No Fee compensation claim flung about by my supervisor, I’m sure everybody else would have seen the humor of it. Well, what happened was that my supervisor, who happened to be too familiar with his female employees, once embraced one of them for too long. The poor girl, who was probably new, did not know what to do. Usually, all of us would signal to the other women in the room to distract the guy in order to free whoever he was harassing. However, this new girl, out of sync with the rest of us, put matters into her own hands and pushed the supervisor with a strength we thought was impossible for her to muster. Truly, nothing energizes women more than disgust. Our bald supervisor fell onto the floor and broke his hip. The girl he had been so affectionate with a while ago, he suddenly degenerated into a “disrespectful hussy.” She was, again, demanded a No Win No Fee compensation claim but thank God, the suit was rejected. Nevertheless, she was then fired soon after.
Now, tell me: is it wrong to feel happy, even vindictive, by seeing how this pervert got his just desserts both by getting injured and losing his case? I think not. Absolutely not. How about you? The girl, by the way, found work three weeks later. I know because she’s currently employed by my sister.
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