Gravity

Gravity is badass. Really badass.

Picture this:

You are sitting on a chair inside of a small cafe. The air conditioning is on and the door is open. It is hot. Four speakers in the corner are playing an old Michael Jackson hit. You sigh and shake your head. You are sick of hearing Michael Jackson hits.

You look at the sandwich sitting on the plate in front of you. It's a roast beef sandwich. It looks good. Real good. You pick it up in your hands and take a big bite. You chew and swallow. Man, that is one tasty sandwich.

You put the sandwich back down on the plate, and use your napkin to dab a little mayonnaise off the side of your mouth. you look across the table at your loved one. She looks back at you and smiles.

"I love you", she says.

You gaze into her big beautiful blue eyes. She is gorgeous. She means the world to you. You want to kiss her, sweep her off her feet.

You start to say, "I love you too, honey", but before you can finish your sentence she is whisked upwards out of her seat, screaming as she crashes through the ceiling of the cafe and into the blue, cloudless sky.

She dies up there, way up there in the sky, burnt out by the Earth's atmosphere.

You moved on after that day, and your relatively happy now. You've got a wife, a couple of kids, a good job. Things are ok. But you will always remember that day, and you can still hear her screams echoing in your head every time you eat a roast beef sandwich.


Sounds awful, doesn't it? Heartbreaking, right?

You know what prevents a story like this from happening?

Gravity, bitches.

Verdict:

UNDERRATED

P.S. Gravity also makes things like this possible.



P.P.S. Tom-O, are we even allowed to do P.S.'s?