Blue Balled

My feet were on the floor before I could fully register the sound.  The fuck?   I was sure I’d heard a crash.  The lamps on the bedside table had rattled, hadn’t they?  My water glass scraped against the stone coaster, right?  Could it have been another earthquake?  Or was that just the most vivid dream ever?

As my eyelids dropped for a first blink, Paul’s scream vaulted up the stairs.  Again my feet moved without my conscious command, nearly sliding down the carpeted steps in their urgency.

“Are you ok?” I choked, my words already behind me in my haste.

Rocco’s strained voice replied, “We’re fine.”  I rounded the corner to find Rocco splayed upon the wooden floor wearing a sheepish grin.  Paul sat calmly on his lap.  “I think we were just a bit startled.”

“We?”  I paused to catch my breath and wait for my heart to climb back up my legs and into my chest.

“And I may need to lose some weight,” he continued, toying with a piece of blue rubber on the floor.  I noticed it was not the only one.

“Is that the exercise ball?”

“It was.  And Paul is no longer interested in a nap.”


  1. As one who has fallen off an exercise ball — in a class full of apparently more coordinated people — I feel Rocco’s pain.

  2. That’s why I’m never getting one of those.

    Plus. then I’d actually have to exercise. That’s not really appealing.

  3. If you knit it a canvas sweater and zip it tightly inside, exercise balls are great for crab soccer! I bet you have no freaking idea what I’m even talking about and are convinced that I only dreamed that my gym teacher made us play this relentlessly. Look^ I used “freaking” instead of the other word! My new internal censor works~

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