So there I was, partying with some old friends in geosynchronous orbit when nature called, as it is wont to do.
Just as I was headed for the head, the satellite got rocked by a cosmic wave.
I reached out a hand to steady myself and wound up grabbing the shoulder of this big guy named “Walter.”
Walter hauled back and flattened my nose. Punched me fourteen feet back, right out of my trousers and through a section of cabinets.
I’m not mad; I can’t be mad. It was my fault. Some people just don’t like to be touched, you know? I really should have looked where I was grabbing.
But as I lay there in a pile of splinters with my pants around my ankles, blood dripping out of my nostrils, and a piss fountain streaming four feet in the air from elsewhere in my anatomical regions, I had to laugh at how boring I’ve become.
Even five years ago this story would have involved at least two hookers and some morally ambiguous things I couldn’t talk about. Now look at it. It’s fit for a Sunday church bulletin.
It was at this point that I resolved to put a little more pep in my step. I’m a little busier than I used to be, but that’s no excuse for dullness.
The heck with fear; dullness is the real mind-killer.
Thanks, Walter, for reminding me to stay sharp!