Thoughts that surrounded the time when I cut my penis masturbating and fainted at the sight of it's blood by Dan Gleason

I arise from bed about forty-five minutes after my alarm clock goes off, normally. It's snooze. Snooze-snooze. Snooze- snooze- then, make time for the pre-work shower. At this point, I have already moved my forecasted office arrival time back from eight o'clock to nine. Though my absence is hardly noted (the boss has not commented on this lateness in ages), it still adds seemingly unnecessary stress to my a.m. hours. But I cannot help it- as the qualifier 'seemingly,' stealthily states, I do indeed need this time. These are the most important moments of my day. For I am a card-carrying, certified regular morning masturbator- and this is a fact that I do not shy away from. Though, perhaps I should.

One day, however, this luscious habit delayed me even more than usual. After the 'workout,' I felt a horrible burn on the tip of my love wand. As I approached the shower, I put my foot on the toilet, and noticed the tiniest speck of blood emerge from a cut near my foreskin. Suddenly, the lights went blue, then quickly, a dull gray. I could not catch wind, my vision irised shut, and I felt my back tilt until it struck a nearby wall. I came to lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering what had transpired.

I was uninjured. I don't know how- and I guess I have always been lucky in that way. As I lay there, I flipped through the mental pictures of the times when such tragedy had be felled me before. Some occurred because of binge drinking, some resulted from having the wind knocked out of me. But I felt it was amazing, in thinking about these times, that I was never injured further as a result of this passing out. No extra back pain, no bloody head contusions. No scraped knees, even. Truly, the principle patron saints of the fainting spell had given me their ultimate blessing.

One time at a pancake feed, I had an anxiety attack, stopped breathing, and blacked out in front of a bunch of triple-stack feasting elderlies. I had a lot of problems around crowds at this time, and was regularly panicking and running away. But this one caught me off guard, and I could feel my wind cutting off, as my head shrunk down towards my flapjack and sausage feast. When face hit plate, I realized what was going on and quickly left, avoiding further embarrassment. Suffered nary a chafed elbow, or anything.

Lincoln, Nebraska, is not necessarily known for it's hills, but there was a large one that I very regularly had to ride my bicycle over on the way back from work. One Summer's evening, I came down this hill very swiftly, and a car nudged out in front of my bike. This forced me to swerve left, where I struck an overly-high curb. I heard someone say, "Are you all right?" as I lay sprawled in the grass. I eyeballed my parts, and decided that I was indeed still all together, so I told the inquirer I was fine. Just a minor black out, dangerously close to on-coming traffic.

I enjoy spirits. And, I enjoy trampolines. But I found that the two do not mix well for me one evening long ago. My amigo Mike and I went to a friend of his' house (this Sarah somebody), and drank the alcohol, and then went into the backyard where sat her gigantic tramp. We leapt and descended together for a while, until I noticed that they had vanished. A make-out session, I believe. So, I was left alone to attempt my flips. I was successful a couple of times, but then, after another try, I found myself on my back in Sarah's yard. I knew I had been out for a measurable time, for I had become wet from newly formed dew. But surprisingly, I did not even slip a disk.

Blacked out drunk driving and found myself in the neighbor's lawn. There was vomit on the window, and I believe I had been opening the door and puking out of it before I went yard-ward. It was all a bit hazy, and I could not breath- but I recovered, and no one spotted this occurrence, I tell you in good faith. And, once again- I emerged unscathed.

Blue Bull Ice Malt Liquor caused numerous problems for me in the area of the fainting spell. I worked at the Post Office in '96, and the powerful beverage made me pass out on my very first day. The culling belt, where large items are prevented from being post marked, was the site of this incident. Fronselle (who I mistakenly called 'The Fonz,' during my employment there due to vernacular misunderstanding) was training me to throw flats and packages into the separate bins. We worked for awhile, but then suddenly, my vision became completely obscured. The lights went dim, and I could hear Frons say, "You gotta put your hands in it." But, it was too late, for I had already gone down. I awoke on a cart, with the manager and a few others lingering over me. They stuck me in an office for quite some time, and asked what had happened. I lied and said I had not eaten in days, so they gave me chips and milk, and told me to go home. And, I was mocked for this incident the rest of my time there.

My mother befriended a boy with cancer and brought him for pizza one weekend afternoon. We sat together, and he told me many harrowing tales of chemotherapy, recovery, and treatment. Right in the middle of one of his more powerful yarns, though, I began to feel the effects of the Blue Bull. He was talking about initially losing his hair, and I began to hyperventilate, and asked my mom if I could be excused from the booth. I went to the bathroom, and then to the parking lot, to try and regain composure. I lay in prone position in a parking stall for quite some time. Eventually, I went back into the restaurant, and told them both I needed to leave. And, I apologized for ruining the boy's story.

Lying with cut penis, I thought this last anecdote to be absolutely hilarious. But then, I felt guilt, for I remembered that the boy died shortly later. Laughter is ever-present, though- the jocular tales live on long after we are gone- so I decided to write about this affair any way for your enjoyitude. I lay smiling on the floor, staring up at the dimpled ceiling, thinking about my uncanny lateness. But, I also reflected on my incredible luck. It was fate I decided, fate that allowed me to pass out whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted, and come away intact. Fate, and fate's friend chance. So I thank you fate, and I thank you chance, for allowing me to cut my dick, and reflect on all of those times I spent unconscious/awake in the past. No chipped vertebras, broken noses, punctured ear drums- nothing in any way serious. Other than, perhaps, a slight tingle on my member, I had nothing but fond, fond memories.