Shaun Lewis: the Man, the Myth, the Legend

It’s Wednesday.

(unintelligible grumbling sounds) I feel extremely sore today. There are very few parts of my body that do not hurt. I woke up this morning and could barely move or even remember my name.

Surprisingly, I’m not talking about a hangover; the cause of my pain is probably from the severe beating I had last night. It would seem as though my paranoid delusions are actually coming to pass, and my friends are trying to kill me. I must admit, however, from whom the strikes came caused me quite a shock. You see, I always expected the offical “Goddess of the Universe” to attack first. It was not that way though; the two As had their way with me instead.

Aside:I am STILL having problems breathing today…

Now, I should clarify myself (for the sake of these friendly ruffians of mine) on the exact nature of my abuse. Part of it, I will admit, was my fault. It was my idea to play racquetball, and the racquetball court is where most of the injuries occured. Also, some of the bruises MIGHT have came from when I tried to leap onto a bench and over a wall — and failed quite miserably, I might add. Despite these small facts, the two biggest hurts were from the racquet to the face and the racquetball to the chest.

The racquet to the face was not the worst, as one might think. It was the ball to the chest that rendered my lung practically unusable.

Although I did receive one of the most horrendous beatings of my life last night, the night most definitely ended well. It was capped off with a movie, Babe, and a Dr. Pepper from a wonderful individual that drank the one I had before and shall remain nameless due to fear of reprisals. (Yes, I am aware it was my fault that I left it there). So, I guess last night was, indeed, “excellent.” Plus, I learned a valuable lesson — the more I get hurt, the nicer people are to me.

With that in mind, it looks like my plan to jump off Richland Bridge may happen after all.