Fun with Obdormition

“Alright, Raj,” I said.  “What’s your story?”

“Yeah, regale us with another riveting tale of your whimsical life,” Mike added, his tone thick with sarcasm.

“So, I fell asleep on my arm last night,” Raj began.  “My right arm, and it went completely numb.  You know what that’s like?”

“Fuck yeah,” said Mike putting his beer down on the table.  “The last time I did that I rolled over and when my dead arm flopped on me I thought it was someone else’s arm.  I woke up screaming.  I thought it was someone else.”

“Dumbass,” I murmured, followed by a lengthy and frothy belch.

“You know,” continued Mike, “that was the last time I slept with Dana.  I think that’s why she broke up with me.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason, son,” said Raj with a Cheshire-cat smile.

“Oh, no?  Then why, pray tell, did she dump me?”  Mike shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

“Well, from what I’ve heard,” Raj said, leaning in to the table, “and mind you, this is at least third hand info I got from Saira, it’s that in bed you were like a basketball player.”

“The fuck does that mean?” puzzled Mike.  “That I drive the lane?  That I take it strong to the hole?  Those are all good things, right?”

Raj put his hand to his forehead as he laughed.  Mike looked to the two of us with a puzzled look.

“No, Mike,” I intoned.  “That means that, like a basketball player, you always dribble before you shoot.”

Raj let out a slight snort as he laughed harder.  As many times as he’d heard that expression he still thought it was funny.  It was even better now that he could bust one of his buddy’s balls with it.

“Fuck you!  Fuck both of you!” shouted Mike.  His eyes narrowed as he said it.

“Hey, now.  Don’t blame the messenger.” I said as I drained the last of my pint of Ninkasi Radiant Ale.

Raj, still chuckling, chided, “No need to get testy, Lebron.”

“Fuck off, Raj,” growled Mike, more angrily than before.

I butted in, “OK, Raj.  Finish your story.”

“Right,” said Raj.  “So, there I was, in bed, with this arm that felt like someone else’s arm.  So, I thought to myself, hey, why not pull the pud and see if it feels like getting jerked off by someone else?”

“Oh, fuck me,” Mike exhaled.

“No, it does!” said Raj rather emphatically.  “But the thing is, since your whole arm is asleep you really don’t have much control over your hand.  The grip is all weird.”

Mike and I just shook our heads.

“You know, it kind of felt like that awkward handy you got from your first high school girlfriend.”

“No, seriously, fuck off,” Mike exclaimed exasperatedly.  I closed my eyes and pretended that I wasn’t here, at this bar, listening to Raj talk about his experiments in self-gratification.

“No guys, seriously,” Raj continued.  “You should try this for nostalgia’s sake.”

“Raj,” I stated as I shook my head, “you are hereby banned from telling stories.”

I think I should be too.