I don't think I mentioned that the other day, while I in Count Von Bloodula's waiting room, a familiar looking old gent and his lady walked in and sat down. I kinda recognized the dude, but I couldn't quite place him at first. Then, I pictured him naked, soaping up his balls while standing a coupla feet away from me -- of course! He was one of the old-man-ball-latherers from the Y! And there he was, waiting to see the blood/cancer doctor.
So, we both just sat there, recognizing each other but not acknowledging that fact, each of us wondering what the fuck was wrong with the other guy. I was figuring he was in there for some kinda cancer, or something. It most certainly wasn't ball cancer, that's for sure. That dude must've had the cleanest sack in the mitten, the way he froths that baby up in the shower.
He was probably looking at me thinking, "There's that skinny, hairy lad from the pool. Poor schmuck. Wonder what he's got. Probably nut cancer -- kid doesn't know how to properly lather his nougats. Maybe I'll give him a lesson, next time I see him."
I saw him at the Y today. We looked at each other for a sec, but then we both looked quickly away. I guess we just didn't want to acknowledge each others' mortality, or something. We were at the Y -- we were there to get healthy. To try and undo whatever it was that was causing us to go see the blood doctor in the first place. We parted ways as he entered the sauna and I went out to the pool.
While showering after my swim, I lathered up extra good in his honor. Here's to your health, old man.