There is scarcely anything more addictive than playing minesweeper at 2 am, with heavy metal throbbing lightly in the background for the sake of saner people who choose this hour to sleep. Suddenly, you're all alone in the world, only your light is burning, you can scarcely hear your own breathing. For all practical purposes, you might be asleep yourself.

You don't feel like jumping up and doing a waltz with the dog like you might do when the rest of the world is buzzing around you. You don't even feel like head-banging. Your fingers just keep mechanically clicking, the mouse seems to take on a life of its own, the only sounds you can hear are the soft strains of some of the loudest music existing today, with the knocking of the keys faintly reaching your dulled senses in between tracks. But you scarcely notice it.

The mouse keeps sliding, your eyes preserve their glazed expression, the clicks on the minefield keep opening up new boxes. Then there's a deafening blast of silence as the field dots itself with that evil nefarious sign of the civilian's nightmare - the bomb. But the mouse mechanically continues to slide upwards, as your face registers no surprise, or shock, in fact, nothing at all.

The glaze across your eyes is still there. You don't even seem to blink. Your mind is dead, your hands are dead, the only living creature around is the mouse dragging your hand with it towards your next great tragedy that night.

It clicks softly on the face above, that seems to beckon with an innocent smile that beneath lies the most sadistic of lies. Numbers begin to light up the screen again. Then suddenly it strikes you, and you leave the game halfway to write this blog...