The Geeky Guy remembers when he fought the Battle of the Bedsprings

Once, when the Geeky Guy was a small child, when he was a Geeky Boy he crawled under his parents’ bed with his plastic army men and commanded them to fight the battle of the bedsprings. He posted snipers in the coils while tanks and an anachronistic cavalry faced off down below. The battle had not yet started, so he hadn’t begun to make shooting sounds with his mouth. His father came home early and he and his mother thought their son was outside playing, so they hustled to the bedroom for a quickie. The Geeky Boy didn’t understand what was happening, of course; not until years later. He had not yet read The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex. At the time, he thought they were going to take a nap and he’d see what a nap was like from underneath the bed. It was loud.

His parents weren’t loud, the bed was, although they made noises they normally wouldn’t have. The bedsprings coiled and uncoiled in a kind of dance. The wooden slat that held up the middle of the bed creaked and wood fibers intermittently popped. His mother gasped as if she was the one doing the dancing and was out of breath. His father grunted as if he was pushing against something, trying to move an immovable object.

As the bedsprings boogied, several of the soldiers plummeted to their deaths. A bazooka man got caught and crushed, his weapon bent and useless. When the spring had done its worst to him, it released him, and he fell, trapped within the interior part of the helix. Army men did not like to leave their wounded behind, so the Geeky Boy reached in to save him, timing his intervention for when the springs relaxed. He must’ve timed wrong, or the lovers above must’ve altered their rhythm. Perhaps his father paused to delay ejaculation, or his mother shifted to get a better spot. Whatever the reason, the bedspring pinched his probing fingers and he cried out.

“Stop,” said his mother.

“What?” his father said.

“Someone’s here.”

“They’re outside,” he declared. But the Geeky Boy began to sob with pain.

“Under the bed!”

The bedsprings recoiled a final time and the bazooka man catapulted out. Abruptly, his parents’ feet struck the floor and his father dragged the Geeky Boy out by his ankles.

His father was angry, unaccountably angry. He was seldom an angry man, but the Geeky Boy could see it in his face. He forgot all about his pinched fingers. He saw something else, too, something very disturbing, something that for years he associated with anger. His father’s penis was stiff and pointy. That’s the thing that stuck in his mind; the sight of his father’s angry penis, an inflamed sword that would gut him if he ever went under their bed again. He’d never seen one like that before, certainly not his father’s, but also not his own at the time, for he was very young. Until he read The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex, and was properly informed, he had the theory that a penis must get that way when you’re angry and it must be a weapon of some kind.

The father shouted that the boy was never to go under their bed again, and he gave a solid swat on his backside to remember the lesson by. The Geeky Boy was grateful for the swat because it meant that he would not be pierced with the dagger. He was doubly relieved when he looked a second time and saw that it was gone; his penis had resumed it’s normal state. The Geeky Boy never went back to get the army men till after his parents died.

That incident happened a long time ago and the Geeky Guy learned a great deal since then. He understood the purpose of an erect penis, but nothing will ever stop him from having an inexplicable feeling of doom when he heard bedsprings creak.

The Geeky Guy and the Lisping Barista were now hiding under the bed where a minute ago they’d trespassed and had been having sex. The owners of the school bus were going at it in their place above them. They were much more unrestrained vocally than his parents had been. The Geeky Guy had an irrational belief that he’d be stabbed if he got caught and was beginning to have another panic attack.

Fortunately, something had broken the Lisping Barista’s trance. She was entirely back to normal, or what passed as normal for her. She boldly crawled out from their hiding place, as naked as the day she was born. She got the couple’s attention and said, with an amazing amount of aplomb, “We’re going to go now and give you thome privathy.”

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S. Harry Zade

Writing a blog keeps me alive.

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