Saturday, June 14, 2014

Wasn't Me!

Stop being an adult
for just 5 minutes...

... and read this! LoL

Wasn't Me!

This is one of those spotlight moments
when there’s truly nowhere to hide.

It's just you...
and you’re out there on your own,
anticipating that full and complete blame...
and of course...
every second of humiliation
that will certainly follow
in the footsteps of said blame. LoL

Holy crap, I’m cracking up at this very moment just thinking about what I’m about to write.

It's SO stupid, but, SO funny!

But first, everyone has to climb aboard
the Way Back Machine.

I need to transport you guys,
way back to the third grade again.

Just trust me!
It'll go down much easier this way.

Go with the flow, and enjoy the ride.
You’ll get so much more laughter out of this story if you loosen up that tie, kick off those expensive shoe’s, and revisit your childhood
for a few moments.

Hold on, ‘cause here we go!

Well, I began taking karate lessons at a local Dojo. And it happened
during one of these classes.

Anyway, I was really enjoying myself, getting my ass kicked daily, three times a week.
And sometimes by girls, no less.

You see, once you enter through those doors of the Dojo, everything that you thought true as far as social standing, gender, or even age,
went right out the window.

Because a ten-year-old kid, or even a woman, could kick the ever-lovin’ shit outta you
at any moment.

It was truly a Bazaro world on the other side of those doors, but it was fun nonetheless.

I was getting pretty good. Although I must admit, I did have a little trouble getting these non-petite cider block-looking legs in the air for kicks. But with practice,
it would all fall into place.

The class usually began with some bowing, and respect paying to the masters on the wall.

Then everyone would pair off.

The instructor would usually perform a move, and then we would follow along and learn that move. I couldn’t believe how hard it was to watch someone do something and then try to repeat the very same move

only seconds after seeing it.

I would make the first punch and then stop,

have that confused look on my face,
and look over to the instructor for help.

I felt like a real dummy at times, especially when the fuckin’ ten-year-old kid next to me was flying through the air like fuckin’ Bruce Lee.

10 year old kicking my fucking ass... LoL oh shut up  LoL

Man, I just wanted to trip that little prick.

But I couldn’t, for fear that he might kick my ass right there on the spot in front of everyone.
Ooohh that little jerk off!
He's not looking at me is he???? LoL

I should have been more like Kramer

and pounded those little muthafucka's
into the dirt... LoL

Getting back on track here.

Now if we weren’t learning new moves,
we were stretching, and completing
all forms of calisthenics.

But the best part of class was when we got paired off with another classmate, and we spared with one another. Man, punching and kicking other people is really a great workout.

We even spared against the instructors.

That was especially fun.

Only because they would let you slip in a shot on them every now and then, without much retaliation on their part. That was cool!

But then, just as you began to get a little cocky, bang, there was a size eleven foot one half inch away from your face. Just sitting there, steady as could be. Letting you know that you could be taken out in a flash, at any muthafucking time!

Now, that was fuckin’ scary.

And man, it happens so fast too.

You always think that you could block it, or perhaps duck, especially when you see this shit on TV. Well, no fuckin’ way.

If you come across someone that knows what he or she doing, you ain’t blocking anything my friend. Just lie down on the ground,

and bleed like you’re supposed to!

Well, a couple months into my lessons, my brother Michael joined. This was pretty cool because we always paired off to perform the drills. So, we didn’t hav’ta worry about going too hard, or too easy, on the other guy.

We were both on the same level of knowledge. Which was that neither one of us knew jack shit! So, it was good.

But anyway, one day during drills, everyone was paired off. Michael and myself were once again facing each other.

The instructor was showing us some really cool moves. Everyone was trying their best to imitate what they had just seen.

Now, during this time the instructor would walk around and give individual help to those in need. And, every once in awhile, he would ask the entire class to stop what they were doing.

He would then once again, demonstrate a portion of the new move that seemed to be giving people trouble. Well, this time,

he chose me to be his assistant.

Now, you have to picture the environment.

This was not like a bunch of rowdy school kids, jumping around
and playing in the fucking Mini Dust.
No way man!

Everyone there took this crap seriously.

To joke around meant disrespect, which meant an ass whoopin’! So when the instructor asked for his full attention, he got it.

You could hear a pin drop from down the block

it was so quiet.

So, he walked over to me, and began babbling out all sorts of theory behind the move, and then told me to stand there in the ready position which meant, with both fists up, ready for action.

Well I complied, and raised both hands.

He then described what he was about to do to the class. This was to block my incoming punch, and then to knock the wind outta me with a devastating blow to the stomach.

Sounds simple, right?

I just had’ta stand there and throw a punch, then get pounded in the stomach. Well, not really get pounded. It was pretty much all simulated.

Usually most contact was held back to a minimum, except sparing.

Then, it got a little heated!

But the major contact had to be held back to a minimum, because if this guy, the instructor, ever hit you with all his might in the stomach, your balls would just drop to the floor

from the force of the blow.

They would blast their way right outta the sack, and just fall to the floor. Oh, they wouldn’t roll or anything, just plop, right there, dead in their tracks. Never to breathe again. He was a bad

muthafucka lemme tell ya!

Anyway, it was time to execute

the demonstration.

The room was dead quiet.

Only the instructor’s voice was heard.

He gave me the nod, and I punched.

He proceeded to block that punch, and then to land a right hook to my stomach.

And that’s when it happened.

I farted!

I fuckin’ farted dude!

Can you fuckin’ believe that shit?

He made contact with my stomach, and being that I was all tensed up,

the punch pushed it right out.

And, it wasn’t one of those long

drawn out ones either.

It was just like a pop!

Ya know, like when someone pops the cork to a bottle of champagne. Unbelievable, man!

And, there was no way to blame anyone else either. The whole class was looking right at us. My goodness, it was so funny.

But at first, no one laughed because of that respect thing. And still, three or four seconds after the punch, the instructor was still there in the final position of the demonstration.

We were standing there like statues.

But then, he finally broke down and made eye contact with me. Then, he started to laugh.
That was the signal everyone was waiting for.

Now, it was okay to laugh.

And laugh they did!

Oh, man, it was so embarrassing. I just wanted to run home. It was like one of those bad afterschool movie specials yet again.

We all had a good laugh about it, but then got right back to business. And, you know what? The instructor never used me in any other demonstrations from that point on.

I wonder why?

I can’t believe I farted in karate class!

In front of everyone.

But... it wasn't me!!




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