. . .with no arms.
Lost them in an accident years ago.
Needless to say, I have ridiculed him since the first time we met.
Oh, don’t give me shit!
He started it!
The first time we met he was getting the old ‘you poor thing’ from someone and I could hear his sarcasm drip onto the floor. The woman would hear none of it and kept going on how brave he was.
“I’m not brave,” I remember him saying. “You know who’s brave? My wife because she has to wipe my ass every day.”
Brilliant! Instant kinship.
We don’t see each other often, actually, until this moment, I probably hadn’t seen him in a decade. But he’s the same old prick. We’re catching up, just like people do, when a woman comes in and sees this lunatic waving his stumps* around while telling a story. He’s a very animated speaker.
She begins to stammer out an apology for interrupting when he says,
“No, I’m glad you’re here. I need a witness.”
Oh, oh, I see pop into her expression. I’m sure she’s thinking she’s going to be dragged into court.
“I want someone to watch while I kick his ass.” He pauses long enough for her stomach drop and quiver. “On the basketball court.”
Now the person is a little more relaxed but even more confused.
“Tell her,” he says to me. “Tell her I can kick your ass on the court.”
“Yeah,” I smile at the woman. “He is quite a handful on the court. But, in all the years I’ve known him, I’m undefeated in rock, paper, scissors.”
* He has prosthesis but he goes all stumpy because, well, he’s the kind of fucking asshole who likes to fuck with people.