The Hand Job

by Rip Peterson

Table of Contents

People who stop going to school because it interferes with a soap opera don’t make much out of their lives.

I am proof of that.

So what’s the point of reading this? I’m sure that you are asking yourself that by the third sentence. If you’re still here, I don’t have an answer to that. You can stop if you want. Or keep going. It makes no difference to me.

You could use this story as a cautionary tale. Tell your kids not to be like this idiot.

But maybe you’re not going to read this for me. Which I think is probably the best option.

As you might be aware, everyone has a special ability. Well, not everyone in the world. Mostly just the maintenance and janitorial workers from my company. Kind of an open secret, I guess. Not everyone gets amazing abilities. Most of us don’t. Some of us don’t ever discover what our ability is. Like who is going to walk into a burning building to see if they are invulnerable to fire? No one I know would do that.

Like most things in my life, the discovery of my power was a complete accident.

It was my thirty-third birthday.

To provide a few more details about myself. I was married at the time. My wife and I had two kids. We both kind of let ourselves go. Not too much but we definitely were aging a bit.

I tried talking her into giving me a BJ for my birthday.

She said no.

She always said no.

Which is fine. I didn’t marry her for blowjobs.

Anyway, on the thirty-third birthday, she ended up feeling guilty for the lack of sex or thought it would shut me up for another year and decided to give me a hand job.