A Bit Off Point


He was a maniacal little bastard.

Okay, bastard no. I knew both of his parents; married for 36 years. They were lovely people.

Little maybe. In a crowd of people he was probably in the lower 25th percentile. I’ve got nothing against short people mind you. My favorite uncle was a little person or dwarf. I’m not up-to-date on the proper nomenclature.

But maniacal, you bet your ass he was! He bit my dick once; I shit you not!

Get this, okay. We were in Puerto Vallarta. We had just come ashore on a tender we took from the cruise ship we were on. I don’t remember which ship; so don’t ask me. God dammit, it was a good, twenty, twenty-five years ago now.

Anyways, we get off the little boat and we’re waiting for a shuttle that’s supposed to be picking us up to take us on some tequila distillery tour. The tour was shit, by they way. They took us to this out of the way area to these tiny mom and pop operations that are clearly there just to sell their mediocre tequila to dumb tourists that don’t know where the fuck they are.

So we’re waiting, right, and the shuttle is flipping late man. I mean, our tender pulled up maybe five minutes after the shuttle was supposed to arrive and we must have waited 40 minutes for that thing to arrive. The damn driver didn’t speak English, or so he said, and we just wanted to get to where we’re going, you know, so we just didn’t tip him.

But anyways, we’ve been waiting for maybe 10 minutes at this point and that little hyperactive, crazy son of a bitch is restless. You can’t blame him though. I get it. He was maybe six or seven at the time so it’s understandable that a kid that age doesn’t have much patience to begin with and add in a foreign country and all the excitement and the standing around waiting and you’ve got a freaking pint-sized powder keg ready to blow.

But like I said, he was about seven. It was a long fucking time ago for me but I’m positive I knew things at the age of seven that this little fucker should of known. Looking back, he probably did know and just chose to ignore. Like, I know for a fact, at seven, I knew it wasn’t cool to bite a grown man on the penis.

Let me be clear here. I was in no situation whatsoever that would have called for anything close to begin bitten on the dick. I was talking to my buddy, Gary and his wife Sheila.

Sheila’s a putz but I love Gary so what the fuck you going to do? I remember this vividly because moments later I would be holding old Wendy’s napkins through the zipper of my jean shorts sobbing like a newborn baby girl that got stood up by the prom king.

Gary was telling me about his daughter’s clarinet recital. Abbey, Gary and Sheila’s daughter, is my goddaughter and she’s like a niece to me.

In fact I like her more than all my actual nieces and nephew. They’re all a bunch of entitled little brats, even now in their early 30’s. My sister and her douche bag husband spoiled them and now they all suck nuts.

Yea so, Abbey was having her first recital and she was so nervous, I guess, she peed herself while playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” While Gary is telling me this, I see the little maniac running all over the damn place.

I didn’t know his folks that well at that point. We became friends over time especially after I lost my wife.

The little shit’s mother, Terry, was Rebecca’s college roommate and they had had a falling out before Rebecca and I met and didn’t reconnect until after our wedding so I didn’t know her very well at first. We only really saw them on the vacations until they ended up moving back up here. Rebecca and her had resolved their shit years before but became best friends again once Terry and Jerry moved back.

How ridiculous is that, by the way? Terry and Jerry! I mean come on. Teresa and Jerome are two respected adults but Terry and Jerry is a fucking Saturday Morning Cartoon. I shouldn’t say that though, they were lovely people.

I noticed the shit for brains kept kicking Jerry in the balls but like not very hard and Jerry, man, he was used to that garbage so his reflexes were honed, you know. I’m not watching him though. I know he’s running around like a little monster but ignored him otherwise. I didn’t even see him run up to me, and Gary and Sheila didn’t acknowledge him cause they had kids, whereas, at the time I didn’t so they knew how to tune that shit out.

For years I felt horrible because I backhanded that bastard, hard. I mean he came off both his feet and fell a few feet away from me. Of course, he started wailing and until everyone found out what he had done and saw that I was literally bleeding from my pecker they freaked the fuck out on me.

The cartoons run over and Jerry came up on me like he was going to throw a punch but I was half-way down to my keens screaming my-damn-self by the time he reached me.

Everyone gathers around the kid mostly. Rebecca, Gary and Shelia are checking on me because nobody actually saw what had happened. It wasn’t until later that night when Rebecca checked me out closely that she realized I had distinctive teeth marks on the helmet.

I had to walk bow-legged for the rest of the damn cruise and I couldn’t do the zip line either. I was pissed. That was the last cruise we went on before the kids too so I was planning on wiling out.

Let me tell you taking kids on a cruise is a whole different vacation man. I love my kids but they used to suck the fun out of everything when they were little. I can say that now because they’re grown.

That tiny little turd runs up to me and I didn’t see him but then he puts both of his hands, like, on the side of my thighs, you know. They were like right here, right below the hips. It startled me because I’m looking at grown up level and that jerkface must of snuck up on. Fucking stealthy lunatic.

I look down to see what’s going on with this little kid placing his hands on my lap in a weird way and I just see his head lunge forward. At first I didn’t know what he was doing. I reacted, of course, because that’s what happens when something enters the no fly zone around your shuttlecock.

I’ve taking some nasty shots to the sausage and biscuits before too man but nothing compares to being bitten, intentionally, down there. Sure I’ve gotten a toothy BJ once or twice, who hasn’t right? This was deliberate.

He latched on and grabbed my shorts with both hands too so he hung on there for three seconds or so. It felt like a damn eternity to me but it couldn’t have been longer than that. By the time I realized what had happened I was all reflex and that’s when I backhanded him. Shit, what would you have done?

I wasn’t about to miss the tequila tour so I held my hand threw my zipper hole with those old Wendy’s napkins my wife had in her purse until the shuttle showed up. I got shitfaced drunk to take my mind of it. It didn’t work. I was cursing that dickhole for the rest of the trip and then some.

Nobody seemed to think he really did anything wrong either. I guess my backhand was all the punishment he got from that whole debacle. As wonderful as his folks were, Terry and Jerry did not discipline him very well. In retrospect that could have a lot to do with the reason he turned out like he did. Honestly, that one instance should have been enough of a warning sign. Yea so, no, I’m not surprised he killed his parents, at all. Lovely people too.


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