Meep

So I am playing cards earlier tonight.

And we're playing Uno Attack, I don't know if anyone'a familiar with this, so I'll describe it breifly as an Uno card game with a demonic machine the spews forth a random number of cards from it's evil maw whenever you press it's button. So instead of drawing two cards from the deck, you press the button twice, and if you don't get cards, you're lucky. Sometimes, you get 14. I hold the record at 14. The machine hateses me.

And my nephew and his twin are over. His twin meaning, this psychotic, evil, wicked witch of a girl who follows him around like a hulking brute of a bodyguard and loves nothing more than MAKING MY LIFE HELL. If I was a superhero, she'd be my ARCH NEMESIS. Luckily, I look way too good in tights and a cape to have them on for long, so she doesn't know my alter ego as... AAADVIIIIIIIIIIIICE MAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNN!!!!

Honestly, I just use it as an excuse to wear the tights.

So it's her turn to shuffle and deal, and we are having a fun night, and i decide to shove the Uno machine at her a little bit, just to irk her. It was a decision that will haunt me for the rest of my days.

Without warning, and with the speed of a striking snake, she grabs the pen from the scorebook and STABS ME IN THE HAND WITH IT. Oh yes. I was assaulted. Brutally. I am not sure what provoked the attack. I grant that, perhaps irking her at that time was a bad idea. I suppose, in retrospect, it's rather like stirring a big pile of vipers with a stick and then shoving a hand into the pile. Come to think of it, when I say it like that, it makes me sound like an idiot.

Now, I'm not a violent man. I don't like confrontation. It frightens me. While I may be a large man, it's mostly hairy flab. I do not consider myself manly in any way. I guess my defense mechanism must have kicked in. My next act was one of pure, animal instinct, the adrenaline-charged reaction of being attacked, stabbed and wounded, my life hanging by a thread.

I meeped.

Now, some of you are wondering what i mean by meeped. In a tiny, scared voice, I said "meep." Yes, well, what can I tell you. Some men, when faced with a charging bear, pick up a rifle, aim down the sights and shoot it between the eyes, killing it dead before it reaches them. Other men, men like me, we meep. You just, just don't know until you face that moment, that single, gut-churning, instant of decision, the time when you either stand up and fight for your life, or you meep and run. I'm a meeper. Who knew?

What happened after that, you ask? Oh my hand's fine. There was a tiny dot of ink that went away after I ran crying to the bathrooms and ran it under cold water to ease the swelling. I was going to put a scooby doo band-aid on it, but alas, i could not find the dot of ink after i washed it off, so I am not sure where she stabbed me exactly. I am sure at any moment, the blood will come spurting out in great red gouts, bathing my walls in blood and ink-poisoned flesh, but as of right now, well, the wound is more to my pride than anything else.

And don't give me that "You got your ass kicked BY A GIRL!!!" shit. This girl is like 7 feet tall, with fire shooting from her eye sockets, and a laugh so heart-rendingly evil that your very soul will flee your body when you hear it and be in the eternal hereafter before your lifeless body hits the floor.

I can't believe I meeped. Sigh. I may as well hand in my man-card and get a sex change, start singing in a transvestite night club or something. I am not sure how good my singing voice is, but I look damn good in a dress. I already have the man-boobs for it.