A wee bit of jimi business before we begin; today is my four year anniversary with the very lovely Kat. I love her more and more. She’s made me the poet, writer and person I am today.
(So send her all complaints!)
Now on to what you really came here for—the ass rape.
It was 3 in the morning. A summer night that was not unlike most summer nights. The apartment was quiet. The cats sprawled out on the living room floor in attempt to hide from the heat. I was up late (again) and lost track of the time. I tried to shake the sleep from my bones but it clung with a righteousness I simply couldn’t match. My fingers plugged away at the keyboard till the lids of my eyes grew heavy. There would be no beating sleep. I made my way to the window and paused to peer out into the darkness. What wearied traveler was out there?
(Okay enough of that. Who do I think I am Denis Johnson lite?)
I trudged off to the bedroom—trying to be as quiet as possible. The wifebot of course had to be up in 3 hours. Turning off the remaining lights I used the flashlight app on my phone to lead the way. After peeing and tossing my pants off I was ready for bed.
Except I forgot earlier in the night I washed the dishes while listening to the Indians game. I left the radio in the kitchen. You see I need the radio on to sleep. I switch between Coast to Coast AM and a Sports talk show. It all depends on my mood. If I don’t want to be bothered by real life I leave it on the sports show. Now if that show spends too much time on a sport or story I don’t like I switch on over to Coast to Coast.
AnyNowYouKnowHowJimiSleeps I had to go to the kitchen to get the radio. I knew this would lead to noise and waking her up. How could it not, after the perfect execution of silently getting into bed? I made my way slowly into the kitchen with my phone. While in there I made sure to switch the station back to the one I wanted and to turn the volume down to an acceptable sleeping level. That done I went back to the bedroom. As I used my phone to see the socket it told me it would be dying soon. No worries I’ll plug it in right now.
(Ah crap the plug is in the living room.)
(Ah crap I actually said that first thing out loud.)
Off to the living room to fetch the charger. Now the cats were stirring. Rasputin following me from the living room to the bedroom—he does this most nights as I head off to bed. I could hear her sleeping soundly as I rounded the home stretch. I just may get through this. All I had to do was plug the phone charger into the wall and slide into bed. I made sure all the pillows were in the right place. I plugged in the charger and it made its little noise assuring me it would begin to charge.
None of this woke her up.
I moved toward the bed and pulled the plug out of the wall. That’s okay I’ll just reach down and plug it back in. For some reason I didn’t bend over to do this but instead squatted down. As I did my ass made contact with the corner of an open drawer. Bull’s-eye! I mean the Enterprise (my ass) was just sitting there shields down when a Romulan Bird of Prey decloaked and slammed a torpedo right through the hull (the hull being my bum.)
The wifebot sits up. “Whaa…whaaa…?” She appears to still be mostly asleep.
“I think I just lost my virginity to a fucking dresser,” grabbing my bum and doing a little hop step.
“Oh.” She turns over and is back into her dreams.
I gingerly walk over and sleep on my side. The next day I tell her about it and she says:
“That’s what you get for leaving the drawers open all the time.”