The Rage in Gerald PG.

When I awoke yesterday morning, I felt an alien sensation passing through my bones. Deep, unmolested rage. For no apparent reason, other than maybe this Junkie I live with called Willem stole my stockpile of scotch fingers the other night. The only food left in the house.

Through the day, as I went about my tasks, this rage built and built. I ran errands frantically, with a sinister passion unmatched by any other patron at the local Wandering Bob's.

It was a quiet rage, building up behind my eyes. Throbbing and pulsating like the beat of a timpani. This was followed by the explosion of a cluster headache, erupting through my skull, confining me to bed for the remainder of the day. One of the kinder Junkies brought me a strange beverage. The strange concoction seemed to be cheery in appearance, however viscus in consistency and slightly acidic in odour, I remained tantalised by its unusual sunset-like complexion.

As I drank it down, i felt a soothing calm and a surge of pure joy. It felt as though I was being dipped slowly, head-first in a bucket filled with concentrated euphoria. I had a sensation of absolute peace, as though everything was right with the world. As though I had found love, fulfillment, and satisfaction in one mouthful of absolute wonder. Whilst I savored the biblical flavour, I came to a simple yet life-changing realisation. Via route of a modest glass of 2 dollar orange juice, I had reached Nirvana.