I heard this story by word of mouth. The way it
starts is just on the tip of my tongue, if only I could spit it out.
This story was told to me by my now fiancée, R Dawg,
quite a while before we started dating and I still to this day get a cramp
inducing laugh out of it. He is still convinced there is no humor within these following
words but I am determined to persuade him otherwise. For comedic purposes only,
I will tell this tale of woe in the first person, as it was first told to me so
long ago. This is to be read with a very serious and concerned tone, just like
R Dawg still recounts it.
I was sitting at my friendly, neighborhood bar enjoying my usual Bud Light and prime rib quesadilla when Rawjah Dawjah walked in and sat next to me. Being a fellow regular at the friendly, neighborhood bar, we eased into pleasant 'howdoyados'. After a cordial amount of time, I turned my attention back to my grub and let everything else fade away. This was my first mistake. I came back to reality when Rawjah Dawjah stifled a sneeze with his sweater, followed with a second and then a third. This being no bother to me, I unconsciously assumed he would continue to suppress his sneezes in this fashion if the fits persisted. Good thought I, back to my food and also my second mistake. A few moments later, while finishing up my last few bites, Rawjah Dawjah let out an extreme and very startling 'ACHOO!' and that is when it hit me. Literally. It hit me, nay, they hit me. Rawjah Dawjah's big, pearly whites flew right out of his mouth and proceeded to hit me right on the arm. Okay, let’s recap: He sneezed and his teeth flew out of his mouth and hit me. After their unprecedented leap of ninja faith onto my unassuming limb, they fell and skipped across the floor reminding me of the yester-years of rock throwing at the lake. I just sat there, stunned, not knowing who or what to look at. Should I do something? Should I pick them up? Should I say 'God Bless You'? Should I scream? With so much confusion immobilizing my temporal lobe, I opted to play ignorant. My cognizance fear of the worst was over, so pretending that nothing happened (Bro Code: Section 12; Paragraph 4; Line 7) seemed my only option. Realization: This was my third and biggest mistake. I then watched in horror as good ol' Rawjah Dawjah walked right over to the scene of the crime, picked those warrior chompers right up off of the friendly, neighborhood bar's floor, gazed at them disconcertingly and popped them right back into his sunk in mouth. He then laughed. For what, I do not know. He laughed a shuddering laugh and went right back to his bloody mary. Oh, and what did I do you ask? I very simply tucked my tail between my legs and scurried home as fast as I could because I knew that I had been beat. Those damned flying teeth! They took everything I knew of my manhood and turned it all upside down! All of the hopes and dreams that I had once had pertaining to a dire situation of me standing up victorious and gladly accepting a hero's title, was forever lost. All in thanks to pepper up the nose and unpolygripped dentures.
Oh Fate, what a cruel game you play.
