"Quitters, Inc."

"The Lawnmower Man" isn't the story I remember (and definitely not one of King's best), but it's one that is memorable now that I'm reading it sober. I seem to remember that it was turned into a film at some point in the nineties, but I never saw the flick (and believe it may have been one that King renounced wholeheartedly as it was an incredible deviation from its source material - was there virtual reality involved?). The story is much more along the lines of something that could have been created by R.L. Stine or one of his counterparts (not Christopher Pike, mind you - his work was always smarter and less pandering to his audience than many of the others); possibly something that would have made for an incredibly goofy episode of "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" or "Goosebumps" or "Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Junior (if there were such a thing)." Imagine a lawn service run by the oldest evil one himself and brandishing creatures in human-like form who use telepathy to control their lawn instruments and feast on the freshly cut grass flung out behind... along with moles, and - theoretically - anything else that stand in their ways. Not terrible. Not particularly scary. But definitely interesting and memorable.

Tonight will be "Quitters, Inc.," and I'm hoping I'll be able to make my way through it. As I compose this post, it's already after 11:00. I have 2001 playing from the DVR for some background music. I've completed everything necessary for the day, even gone a little beyond expectation, but I have to achieve at least six hours of sleep if I'm to be at productive tomorrow at work (which - by the way - I love; I don't remember ever feeling like I really wanted to stay longer somewhere, really looking forward to what tomorrow will bring); however, I had to rush around after work for the first meeting of the burgeoning Henry Harbor executive team and then dash to the Highland Club to hear Angie I. tell her story. This moment, right now, writing these words, is the first opportunity I've had to relax. If I'm going to be able to justify attending Refuge Meditation Group tomorrow at seven, I ought to end this post so I can get started sleeping for another great, big day tomorrow.