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EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK:
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT - One Primate's
Search For Intelligent Life - (EXODUS)
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
A Big Send Off From My Friends
My friends had finally gotten used to the fact that I was soon
to be gone and they decided to give me a going-away party,
holding it at Johnny Q’s and Brian A’s apartment located in the
Kings Wood Apartment complex. All of my crazy friends were there
to see me off. The usual ruckus and carousing happened and at
the end of the night, everyone said their good-lucks and
good-byes. A few of my inner-circle decided to sleep over, due
to excessive drinking. I had actually taken it easy on the
booze, having had only one or two beers, since I wanted to be at
my best my last night in Pennsylvania. Angelina and I were
situated in a giant beanbag chair with an open-knitted coach
cover thrown over us.
Johnny Q. and Brian A had gone to their respective rooms
and Crazy Moe was crashed out on the couch. He had slammed back
almost a fifth of the hard stuff.
Moe looked like the love child Robby Benson and Tom Snyder and
always seemed to have a five o’clock shadow no matter how close
he shaved. He wasn’t really crazy, but was rather a quiet,
sensitive guy who thought much and talked little, operating
perhaps a second out of sync with our time.
Crazy Moe Gets a Show
As
soon as Angelina and I felt fairly certain that the remaining
people in the apartment were asleep, we decided that since it
was the last night that we would share, we would make the best
of it.
We did our best to keep the noise of our lovemaking to a
minimum. The afghan “blanket” had openings throughout so large
that if anyone was looking there would be nothing left to the
imagination as we rutted like monkeys.
Both of our heads were situated a few inches from the coffee
table which was the only thing separating us from Crazy Moe. In
addition, there was only a foot or so of space separating the
coffee table from the couch he was sleeping on.
I figured from his angle of perspective he would not be able to
see anything except the top of our heads. A half-hour into our
lovemaking, I wanted to shift my position dramatically,
requiring me to rise up. To my shock and surprise, Crazy Moe’s
face was a mere six inches from mine. He had stretched all the
way over from the couch, his hands supporting himself on the
edge of the coffee table.
I had no idea how long Crazy Moe had been hanging over us like a
mischievous spider, but the look on his face when our faces
nearly touched was priceless. It was evident he had not given
much thought to me discovering his
voyeurism. I don’t think I ever saw a human being move as
fast as he did when he threw his body backwards on to the couch
to feign sleep. Seeing this was more hilarious than the surprise
on his face.
He also made the most dramatic snoring noises, as if that would
convince me I had been merely hallucinating.
Of course, like any young American-Italian male, I didn’t miss a
beat while I continued to make love with Angelina, all the while
keeping a watchful eye on Crazy Moe. It wouldn’t have been fair
to alarm Angelina and put her through any unnecessary
embarrassment—and it was our last night together, for goodness
sake.
A man
does have his responsibilities.
Eventually I grew tired of watching Crazy Moe. Besides, Angelina
had pulled my face down to hers so we could engage in some good
old healthy face sucking. Awhile later, I stretched up, and lo
and behold, there’s Crazy Moe propped halfway across the coffee
table once more. Surprised, he made another mad dash, once again
feigning sleep.
I thought, “That must have been how I
looked the day the crocodile nearly got me.”
During
the course of our lovemaking, Crazy Moe made several more
attempts to spy on us, though each time he was further away from
us. The last time I saw him he merely had one eye wide-open,
which he snapped shut when I looked at him. I heroically managed
to keep all this from Angelina, thereby sheltering her dignity.
Sometimes I think I sacrifice too much.
Part of the reason she didn’t know Crazy Moe had been an avid
spectator was that she was toasted. Luckily, I hadn’t had that
much to drink as I had kept away from it for almost a year.
That was another benefit of working two jobs: it was so tough,
I couldn’t afford to partake of alcohol, coffee, or sugar.
During that year, although I could not workout, I maintained a
good diet, though my ability to have OBE’s went by the wayside.
I think this happened for two reasons.
The first reason being that I couldn’t train. Looking back I
realize I could have done something, but felt so limited that I
let it go. The second reason was working all of those hours made
it tough to meditate. Every time I tried, I fell into a
much-needed sleep. I experienced no sleep paralysis—or anything
else.
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