I think this is the proper place to announce to the world that I think I have temporarily manifested magical powers.
Having come into the city with almost half of my paycheck remaining, and the next arriving in but two days, I made the courageous decision to treat myself to dinner.
So I got in my truck and drove the short way to the mall area, arriving at the small sushi place that my boss owns in addition to the restaurant in which I work. Unsurprisingly, he was there, as he usually is on weekdays.
"You do not make enough money to eat here on your sarary!" he yelled, pointing out the door in the direction of the restaurant. "You go back to kitchen!"
I'm not sure if he was serious or not. But not matter! I was soon seated at the bar, looking over the glossy, illustrated menu. The hunger with which I only a short while ago did contend was of legendary scale, and I soon selected not one but two entrees to appease it. It wasn't long before the elder of the two knife-wielding fellows behind the bar was handing me my quarry, a beautiful spread of softshell crab, avocado, eel, wasabi, flying fish roe, cucumber, tuna, salmon roe, and ginger, all wrapped expertly in rice with seaweed and laid gently over the pearly ceramic and draped with a gentle criss-cross of teriyaki.
I set to work, my boss looking over my shoulder, his gold chain gleaming in the dim lighting behind his white polo shirt, suspicious of my ability to actually pay for such a smörgåsbord. The poor man beside me was not prepared for the gruesome visage I presented, crunching into the protruding legs and claws, soaking the fine, salty fish eggs in the soy, closing my eyes every now and then to contemplate more clearly the spicy cuts of eel; he sat stone-still, silent, aghast at such exotic gluttony.
I finished it all with the rapidity of a very practiced avarice, gulping down even the pink rubber of the ginger decoration, relishing every last minute sphere of sunset-orange and the final few grains that were knocked loose during the onslaught. Even the ease with which I was able to cover the bill and tip the man (twenty percent, not fifteen) brought its own brand of satisfaction. Surely, it was about three times more than I can intelligently afford, but such are the occasional rewards of the scrupulous asceticism I most often employ.
Though not as brilliant in the setting sun, the low, pulsating aura with which I was now surrounded shone clearly as I left, bidding my superior adieu and crawling back behind the wheel. I could see for miles and miles, and an unmatched tactile precision graced my fingertips. The thoughts of others now seemed obvious and perspicuous, and the smallest details of the environment are even now sculpted into my memory with laser precision.
I am considering using this brief interim of transcendental majesty to fight crime, cure cancer, or write a book that will change the world. But my eyelids are feeling heavy, and I think I'd simply rather lie upon the sofa and see what fantastic, sublime reverie with which such an unchained mind can grace me. If and when I return, I'll likely have reverted to the poor wretch who formerly inhabited this body. Be gentle to him; the mind of such a simple creature as man can scarce contain such grandeur even in memory, and too vivid a remembrance may shatter him.