Monday, December 29, 2008

How to Ruin a Sex Story

Here's a story I wrote a year ago about something that happened about five years ago. Enjoy

24 Sep 2007
How To Ruin a Sex Story
So a few years back, me and My Man Keith were hanging in our shared office at the radio station. I had a story for Keith. Boy I had a story for Keith. You see Keith was like a Level 7 Sex Story Friend. (Out of 7 possible levels.) OK, I just made up that levels thing, but here's my point. Keith was, and is, a most highest level trusted sex story friend. He not only gets to hear details, he gets to hear fresh details. Some stories you have to wait months to tell, so everyone is safe. Not Keith. Sometimes he gets the stories before I've even destroyed the evidence.

Keith even gets to hear names. Yes names! Not just, "I was with Ms. X last night." Instead, he gets to here "I was with Ms. X last night." (Of course I had to type "Ms. X" again so as not to shame any of my real victims, eh, I mean lovers from the past. But if I was typing that for Keith, it would have had a real name, like "Ashley." What? That doesn't single anyone out. Everyone knows I've had a life-long Ashley Affliction. Ashleys love me, and I love them. That's a matter of public record. If they wanted to start a club and talk shit about me and what-not,they'd have to rent out the Superdome to fit all of them in one room. (For the record: the following story actually does not involve an Ashley.)

Anyway, back to Keith. He doesn't know all my stories, but he's in a small group of people in the Level 7 Trust Club who know more than anyone else. So now that we've covered the back story, let's get to the one I really wanted to tell him that day.

I wanted to tell Keith my sex-story from the night before really really bad. It was such a good one, one that I could only tell him or 3 other people and he was the only one in town. Here was the problem: a lot of people that we worked with always walked back and forth and stopped by our office all the time, and this story was so top-secret that I didn't want any of them to figure it out. So I whispered to Keith, "I'm gonna tell you a sex-story, but instead of sex we're gonna talk in baseball." Keith, being ever-adaptive, wagged his finger up in the air one time while saying, "Got it. Let's get started."

Roth Wriscey: So Keith, I played baseball last night.

My Man Keith: Really! Who was the other team?

Roth Wriscey: That team me and you both have always talked about playing.

My Man Keith: No way! That team that seemed like they would never play against any of us. I'm jealous. It was really her, I mean, that team?

Roth Wriscey: Yes, let's call her the Dodgers. Since she's been dodging all of us forever.

MMK: Set up the scene. Did you play at Dodger Stadium or your home field?

RW: I was the home team.

MMK: So wait; you just challenged her to a game-- and she played?

RW: No. She asked for a tour of my stadium. But it didn't appear that we were gonna play a game. I was just gonna show her the field. Then, a few minutes go by, and next thing I know, she's challenged me to game!

MMK: Your saying SHE threw out the first pitch?

RW: She did indeed throw out the first pitch. I was as surprised as you!

MMK: So what did you do?

RW: What could I do? I swung at it!

MMK: Did you hit?

RW: Surprisingly yes. It was one hell of a fastball, and I had barely set foot in the batter's box; but then again, I had been dreaming of this moment at the plate my whole life (or at least as long as we've known the Dodgers.), so I guess I was prepared.

MMK: So are you saying you knocked it out of the park? You hit a homer?

RW: Well, it actually started as a hard single in the gap.

MMK: So you made it to first, easily?

RW: Easily. Then I realized she had picked up the ball pretty deep in the outfield and was staring me down at first. Basically, she wasn't gonna give me second, but she was practically daring me to go for it. If I wanted it, I was gonna have to make it happen!

MMK: And? And? What did you do? Please tell me you tried to steal second!

RW: Of course I did! I didn't know if I'd ever get to play this team again. If I could see second, I was gonna try for second.

MMK: So did you make it?

RW: It wasn't even close, I was safe by a mile! Now, second was fun for quite a while, and then I noticed something: her second baseman had dropped the ball! I had but one opportunity to go for third. And this was that time. If I didn't go now, I was never gonna have a better chance. So I hustled towards the base like I've never hustled before.

MMK: So did you get tagged out?

RW: You know what Keith? I think she didn't even want to get me out! Yes, I think she wanted me to make it safely to 3rd. I made it! She still made it a close play; but I think it was merely procedure. I mean, I was starting to think that she was throwing the my favor!

MMK: Wait! Wait. Wait. Wait. Sometimes the rules of baseball confuse me. By third base do you mean you were tagging her? Or do you mean she was tagging you? Or maybe you were both tagging each other? I gotta know.


MMK: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on. I'd love to get excited for you, and trust me I will, and I will have to get back to that in a minute. But Wriscey, you just put me through this difficult five minute coded conversation where we had to tranlsate everything into baseball, a sport I don't even know that well, and I willfully played along, so no one in this office would figure out who you fooled around with. I did all that for you. And then, THEN, after all that, ALL THAT hard work I put into this conversation, you had to go and undo everything by yelling out "DUDE, SHE TOTALLY SUCKED IT!!!!!!!!!" That defeats the entire purpose of the conversation. Why didn't you just start it that way? Oh well, fuck it. You started the conversation with baseball, so dammit, you're gonna finish it with baseball!

So back to your story. You're on third. And your having a great time on third. And to recap: you turned a single into a double, and that double into a triple. So I know you had to go for the glory and attempt an In The Park Home Run. Right?

RW: You've got me figured out, friend. Oh yeah, sorry about the whole "she sucked it" thing. I got so excited I forgot about baseball and threw it out the window. Anwway, to finish the recap of the game: I figured I needed to go for the homer. Not to mention, staying on third could be more awkward than going for home. Because think about it; when you're on third with a someone like the "Dodgers" for the first time, you don't know if she wants you to "tag yourself out" if you know what I mean. And if she does want you to tag yourself out, you don't really know "where" she wants you to tag yourself out. Of course, as a guy you have a preference, but with someone new you're not always comfortable enough to ask, and you don't want to be a dick and tag yourself out just anywhere you feel like. So I figured, if I went for home, everything would pan out more comfortably. And besides, I'm sure as hell not gonna just walk off the field; that would hurt! Win or lose; this game was gonna end with a play at the plate. I was gonna either get tagged out or win with a homer. Either way, I could walk away with my held held high. Whatever was about to happen, at least I could say I played the Dodgers, and had a chance up until the end.-------------

MMK: Oh no! Man, I know where this is going. Don't even say it. You got TAGGED. OUT. AT . THA. PLATE!!!! YERRR' OUTTA HERE!!!! ROTH WRISCEY'S DONE BEEN BEAT BY THE DODGERS. NOOOOOOO!!!!! SAY IT AIN'T SO, WITHERS! SAY IT AIN'T SO!

RW: I got tagged out at the plate.

MMK: But hey; at least she sucked it.

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