“Which wire could it be?” you wonder as the red numbers on the clock continue to disappear. Sweat pours down your forehead and into your eyes while you try to diffuse the 50 megaton explosive planted at the base of the satellite just about to launch. Hoping to avoid World War 3, you grip the pliers with a strength and precision unknown to mankind. It comes down to two wires, red and blue. As you confidently reach for the blue wire to severe its dastardly sinews, your phone chimes with a message. You’ve got to check, could be important. And indeed it is! A new episode of Hold Your Horses just dropped. You smile, thinking “Those boys are at it again.” And with that, you snip the blue wire, the numbers freeze, and the bomb is disarmed. Just another day at the office.
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“Which wire could it be?” you wonder as the red numbers on the clock continue to disappear. Sweat pours down your forehead and into your eyes while you try to diffuse the 50 megaton explosive planted at the base of the satellite just about to launch. Hoping to avoid World War 3, you grip the pliers with a strength and precision unknown to mankind. It comes down to two wires, red and blue. As you confidently reach for the blue wire to severe its dastardly sinews, your phone chimes with a message. You’ve got to check, could be important. And indeed it is! A new episode of Hold Your Horses just dropped. You smile, thinking “Those boys are at it again.” And with that, you snip the blue wire, the numbers freeze, and the bomb is disarmed. Just another day at the office.
Sinewy snaking columns of smoke rise from the desolation. Buildings that once stood tall now bend and sag like old beggars. A green glow permeates the air like a disease. Where there was once joy and laughter, nothing remains but pain and sorrow. But alas, look. The dark outlines of three figures emerge from the horizon like undulating specters of the underworld. You stop eating the sandy scraps you foraged just the night before and put a hand to your brow. Squinting, you see the figures clearly now. Three riders with chiseled jaws and wide-brimmed hats saunter and sway down the gravel road. Hovels of decrepit beings emerge from their lairs and follow from a distance. As the riders come closer, you stare upward towards the green orb in the sky. The lead rider tosses something to you then yanks the brim of his hat downward before moving past. As you catch the object, you feel its slippery surface and stare in disbelief. A delicacy from another time and place. An apple. The smell of the horde in front of you pulls you from your reveries. The mass of onlookers with their sunken eyes and blistered faces stare at the fruit. Something like an electric shock courses through you and causes you to stand. Removing the hood from your head, you brandish a weapon from beneath your garments. The steel gleams in the green sun’s glow. As the mob springs forward, your yellowed teeth bite into the crisp flesh of the fruit. Eyes closed and blade raised, you whisper, “Not today” as your blade begins slicing.
Hold Your Horses: Idioms for Idiots
“Which wire could it be?” you wonder as the red numbers on the clock continue to disappear. Sweat pours down your forehead and into your eyes while you try to diffuse the 50 megaton explosive planted at the base of the satellite just about to launch. Hoping to avoid World War 3, you grip the pliers with a strength and precision unknown to mankind. It comes down to two wires, red and blue. As you confidently reach for the blue wire to severe its dastardly sinews, your phone chimes with a message. You’ve got to check, could be important. And indeed it is! A new episode of Hold Your Horses just dropped. You smile, thinking “Those boys are at it again.” And with that, you snip the blue wire, the numbers freeze, and the bomb is disarmed. Just another day at the office.
