An old birthday tale.

(plucked from my marital archives circa 2007)

Enter morning. B wakes up and he's pissing and moaning about how fucking old he is. He refuses to get out of bed. He is talking about needing a hip replacement. It's his birthday today, you see.

So, with a short burst of speed and a massive flying leap toward his aging body, I get ready to punch him in the thigh. Really really hard. Just to remind him that he's not old. And I yell "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" while flying through the air with my fist coiled for action.

Instead I punched him really really hard...

...right in the nuts.

Thankfully he was already lying on the bed and he was able to pass out gracefully.

So I had to go buy him a new xbox to make up for it. Seriously. How else does one apologize for the THIRD WORST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER GIVEN BY ANYONE AT ANY POINT IN TIME? First being genocide (but in retrospect I suppose that is what happened down there this morning) and the second being a bolo tie.

If he doesn't die of penis-punching complications, I can only assume he will carry through on his threat to divorce me. This, of course, was pre-xbox, so hopefully he has forgotten about shouting that at me. Hopefully. How long does penis punching pain last, exactly?

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