Chilli Vodka.. or Thunderbolt

:: Chilli Vodka ::

Love at first sight. A black silk shirt, with a hint of cleavage showing through the unbuttoned top button. Sparkling silver long ear-rings that caught the dazzle of the party. Luscious lips delicately dabbed with pink gloss, and eyes that promised to share the secret of happiness. A smile that blew my brain's defences to smithreens.

My heart pumped harder as I drank all this in. Hormones began their frantic journey throughout my system. And that stupid gate-keeper of a brain tried to rationalize the clamor building up in my body - I wanted that girl.

Get me right. I am no MCP. I am not a cave-man lusting after every female of the species. I am simply human. And my humanity had come to hit me for a home-run. Slam!

She had walked in to the party with another girl. I turned my head towards her at the exact moment she looked at me. I was nursing a rather large Chilli-Vodka, worrying about the variables that would decide my departure from the sorry spot that was this excuse for a party. She must've been thinking the same, because she smiled knowingly, with the full power of those killer curves. Alert! Alert! Brain defences down! We need backup!

Hormones had rushed in and overpowered my brain within a millisecond of that smile. Its feeble cries of "You there! Stop! This is not the way to do this!" were hardly heard as I found myself moving towards her. I could hear my heart thudding. Time had slowed down. She had her back to me, standing as part of a general group that seemed to be familiar to each other. Her silken curls beckoned me on...

When I touched her arm, a current ran through me and silenced my brain's last valiant attempt for a rational course of things. It made me hold my breath as my blood boiled and tried to run everywhere in my body at once. I never heard what my brain said 'cos my tongue, apparently on its own, was saying to her enquiring face, "Thunderbolt".

"What?", she must've said.

"You're my thunderbolt", I must've said. And then (I swear I don't know how) I bent down three inches to her face and (goddamit!) I kissed her.

Yuck! That pink gloss was a thick layer of some crud-like stuff. And those lips were cold. What was I doing? This babe had acne! My hormones paused in mid-march, and my brain shrugged them off in one electric movement as it directed my right hand to throw the vodka into the face of her Angry-Friend-1, while the left hand shoved Angry-Friend-2 to create some space as I turned around for my flight.

Too late! She tripped me. And as I fell flat on my face, I realised that I would tell you all about this one time that my hormones led me astray, into the arms of cruel people who couldn't spare a stranger's innocent mistake. Or maybe I should blame the Chilli-Vodka. Gee whiz.

Recipe for Chilli-Vodka: Take a long-stemmed glass. Take Vodka, the variety you like. Take two, maybe three green chillies. Split them three-quarters down the middle, leaving the top intact. Put the chillies in the glass, and the Vodka on top of that. Add your favorite dilutant. Drink. And you don't have my address to sue me.

Don't know about the Thunderbolt? Revise "The Godfather" - the part where Michael goes to Sicily