Accident
I was hit by a car today.
It ploughed into me, accompanied by the ragged hysterical force of one diminutive angel-faced boy. He appraised me with an intense, mercury gaze; for a fleeting phantom instant, I was struck by the bemused perplexity of a scientist who peered down her microscope and realized that the bacterial colonies were staring back.
I picked up the car and handed it back. His noncommittal shrug was a pin-tight perfect display of apathy. It betrayed his youth, and upheld his kind; for this small child, clutching his little toy racecar as he scurried away, is the cookie-mould patriot of the next generation. Apathy is the name of the game, dear readers. More and more, it seems to me that our young successors are growing to wield banners of dispassion, insouciance and collective lethargy, their minds swathed in cultivated disinterest. I say "cultivated", because it seems more of a societal, nurtured trait. When one lives in a world where "killing" means jamming fingers on little Playstation buttons and "dying" means you can be resurrected to restart the game; where language and literature is being macerated into essential text-message and internet-speak alphabets, with flagrant disregard for sanctity of whole words; where the world community dissolves into a vast digital village, faceless and wrapped in virtual mystery...it's no wonder that apathy closes its dull mist talons on vulnerable, malleable minds.
Oh my, how much nonsensical musing can one draw from a shrug? :)
Anyway, so I got hit by a car. It was a TOY car, hurhur. How many of you fell for that!?!?!1/!?!/1/1?!? LOL ROFL etc.
Oh, lighten up. After that monstrous paragraph of irrelevant profound thought, I'm permitted a certain degree of childish humour.