Treat your inner monster

I am well known for being a complete monster ...on the inside. Let's be clear here - on the outside, I'm your regular, empathetic, jovial, run of the mill human being. It's just on the inside I have serious problems. I mean laugh out loud at cyclist accidents type monster.

The only way I've found to cultivate a relatively normal balance is to feed my inner monster. You have to let it out in little drips to stop yourself turning full-on sociopath at the worst possible time. Like..

...Giggle when someone falls over.

...Wish that 40-something on a scooter would fall over right into oncoming traffic.

...Get your boss decaff by 'accident' on your next coffee run.

It sounds awful but otherwise you have a full blown attack. And you'll be out with friends. Friends you like. In public. When one of these friends will quiet seriously, and full of concern, bring up the recent event of their Grandma falling over after coming out of the shower and was found by Grandpa naked on the floor being licked by the family cat whilst she was trying to fashion a toga from a shower curtain.... and you will lose your shit. I mean... lose... your..... shit. The monster will take over and you'll be laughing hysterically on the floor while your mates slowly back away from you....And possibly call someone....Maybe the police.

So anyway, sometimes, you'll need to find these opportunities rather than being able to happen across them in day to day life. For instance:

The other day I was walking through the park on my usual track which is up an absurdly large hill early in the morning, so I can feel justified in eating 16 cookies over the course of the day. This time when I got to the top, a jogger ran past me and rather than opting to stick to the concrete path, he decided, presumably in a fog of an endorphin high similar to a crack-head, to go down a muddy makeshift path down the steepest side of this hill.

Now, the potential of this whole situation was compacted by the fact it had been raining the night before; the path was a slick of clay-type mud that a hiker in spikes would have trouble with; and there was no one around for miles. So I stopped to watch.

Mr Jogger, lets call him Mike, took off at a powerful pace towards the track ( or should I say drop) knees up, clearly feeling like Bear Grylls exploring new manly type terrains. His foot his the top, slid about a metre - but this didn't worry him as he committed to the momentum necessary to traverse down the mini-cliff. Next slidy step... mud spraying up his back...next step, another - he was practically falling more than running at this stage - and a few seconds later he made it to the safety of the grass at the bottom. Disappointing, I know.

I, obviously filled with disappointment, let out a loud and very audible sigh that sounded a lot like a groan - let's be real it was me exclaiming "AWWWW" at the top of the hill as Mike reached the bottom of the hill, and at the exact moment he was feeling exaltation, I was pissing on his parade. Usually he wouldn't have heard me, but the time of day and the absolutely shocking stillness at that time of morning made Mike turn to look sharply up at me. I was sooo embarrassed, I was just filled with shame.

But lucky for me, that only lasted about half a second, when Mike finally lost his footing in the effort to reel around and face his poo-pooer. He slipped and landed on his butt in the mud.

I laughed so loudly, I was snorting and struggling to breathe. I was actually buckled over at one point gasping. Mike, bless his heart, got up and sheepishly ran off as far away from this psycho as he could.

Thank god for the safety of that hill - there was no way Mike was getting back up there to stab me with his smart watch.

That kept my monster sweet for a while.