My Ten-Year-Old's Gorilla

An auto-feed paper towel dispenser ignored me this morning. Either my pre-coffee, matte-finish expression was insufficient in reflecting a requisite number of photons or the machine simply gave me the brush-off. Perhaps I appeared untrustworthy or undeserving or both. Whatever the reason, the oh-so important wipey-box would not relinquish its water absorbent booty.

So I danced. As embarrassing as it sounds I waved my hands, smiled expectantly, and pleaded audibly with the stingy machine—all to no avail.

With an air of contempt, I wiped my hands on my pants and departed, leaving the auto-dispenser to stew in its own self importance. Technology is so overrated. 

For Munk's opening line, we have a vote this week... which book would you read?

We drank to the tears of our slain enemies.


or....
We drank the tears of our slain enemies.


or... (this is a late entry offered by my 10 year old).
A deep rumbling sound emanated from the dark cavern. A split second later a giant gorilla burst through the wall.

Munk's (and now Jensen's) "Opening Lines" are yours to keep, use them. Munk