Saturday, August 11, 2007

Imagination Makes Everything More Interesting

By tall_pete

I work for a small start-up and our office is on the edge of some, well, less wealthy parts of the city. Anyway, I was driving to work this morning and in Philly, a stop sign means slow down, see if you have the next right of way and then accelerate. Stopping is rarely part of the process. Well this morning, I slowed down to let a car coming from the right make the turn. He got there before me and I am actually a courteous, albeit aggressive driver. But the car behind him tried to jump her turn and go right behind him. Nothing doing, I hit the gas; beat the car through the intersection, slamming my horn. The car breaks, I stop to exchange gestures and see a sexy looking black girl, in her young 20s swearing at me. I swear back and point at the stop sign. She gives me the finger and motions me to go. I'm having fun, so I intelligently point at the stop sign again and yell, “stop sign!” -- clever, I know.

She then shakes her fist and pounds it into her other hand. I laugh, but decided enough was enough and moved on. As I drove off my imagination kicks in. Perhaps if my imagination worked quicker or if I actually had the balls to be proactive about getting my balls beaten this is what would have happened.

Start over…

The girl in the car, pounds her fist into her other hand. I laugh, pull my car to the side of the road and get out, putting my arms up in the air in the universal sign, for 'you want some of this'. My adversary slams the gas and jerks to a halt with her car halfway on the sidewalk and jumps out of the car. She marches straight towards me, yelling, “you stupid mother fucker!”, and I notice that she is one sexy woman. She is wearing black stretch pants with a silver vest and her well-toned legs look great in the pants. The defined feminine muscles in her shoulders rippled elegantly under her skin as her arms pump with her marching.

I reply, "What? You can't read the word ‘stop’?" But I'm already starting to concentrate on her body and how her breasts bounce as she marches directly at me.

She doesn't even slow down as she approaches. As she reaches me, her right knee just moves forward that much faster and farther. I'm still standing there with my arms out to the sides, my legs planted and my chest stuck out like a peacock -- one easy target.

The first blow deflates me. It is a perfect shot to my balls with the ball of her knee. I am in shock. Some tiny part of me is elated and a larger part is instantly scared out of my mind. The pain ricochets through my body and my proud posture seems to be collapsing in slow motion. Before I can cover up or push her away, she delivers another knee, dead-on. I don't think the crescendo of pain from the first knee has yet reached its climax and the second in such a rapid procession turns me into jelly.

I let out a gasp, fall forward into her and then slump down her body as my knees give out. I heard her laugh from a distance as I collapsed to my knees at her feet. My face is pressed into her legs right above her knees as my arms hug her firm thighs. I feel my head jerked up by my hair and I look up at her leering face.

"Not so tough now, huh white boy?" she sneers.

Before I can think of a reply, she jerks out of my gasp and starts pulling me by my hair up the sidewalk and snaps, "Come over here, bitch."

It never occurs to me to resist. I crawl on my hands and knees behind her as best I can as she pulls hard on my hair. The crescendo of pain has evolved into a throbbing ache emanating throughout my torso. My right knee hurts on the pavement and I struggle to keep up. Just when I get the rhythm, we stop on the sidewalk behind my car. She drops my head and begins to walk behind me, I assume back to her car. I let my head hang as I try to catch my breath and adjust for the ache dominating my body.

I hear a "yah" from my tormentor behind me, and look back under my left arm to see her right, ankle-tall, high heel boot flying towards my balls from behind. I am still on my hands and knees and have no chance to dodge the blow. I try to brace myself, but it is pointless. I hear the loud thump as the boot connects. I then feel like I am thrown forward although I doubt I actually am. I tip forward. I roll. I am on my right side in the fetal position, sobbing and moaning. The pain is searing, immobilizing, terrifying.

I feel her kick my back and bark, "Get up. I'm not through with you."

I shake my head violently against the pavement, begging, "No please, I can't, I'm sorry, please."

I hear her walk around my head, and then the footsteps stop directly in front of my face. I open my eyes, not having even realized they were closed. I see the boot that inflicted this misery on me a few inches away.

"Kiss my boot and beg for my mercy," I hear from far above.

I move forward to kiss the boot without hesitation. It moves away.

"Beg me bitch," I hear.

I beg. "Please, I'm sorry. Please forgive me..." as I continue to inch after the receding boot.

"No," she practically spits. "Beg to kiss my boot; tell me how pathetic you are. Tell me how you don't deserve to be on the same road as me."

I grovel. "I don't deserve to be on the same road as you. You are a goddess. Please let me kiss your boot.”

The boot raises and then lowers on my face pressing down. "Say you are a worthless pig and lick the heel."

I swallow and begin. "I am a worthless pig…” and strain forward and begin licking the heel of the boot."

The boot raises and I look up at my conqueror, up her shapely legs, over her flat stomach, between her proud breasts at her beaming face. She laughs at me and walks off.

I remain on the ground for a minute before getting up and struggling to my car.

No comments: