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So, the offensive behavior of the American male has been much in the news lately, and that brings us to the reQuest that I share a particular story about my old friend Edd, who had a particularly odd approach to life.

Way back when our little band of misfits were just hitting legal drinking age we would go out to bars, which was pretty much the lone source of entertainment in the city I grew up in. It was what people did in their twenties, anyway, and there you went, got drunk, tried to connect with possible mating partners, and generally made a fool out of yourself.

Edd had a different approach when we went out. The first aberration came in the form of his drinking habits. As is noted elsewhere, Edd generally didn't drink when he went out, which usually made him the designated driver. However, sometimes he'd get an impulse, and that impulse generally involved trying to order fruity umbrella drinks in dive bars. When they would tell him they didn't have a frozen dacquiri machine, he would pout, return to the table, and sit with his arms crossed looking mad as hell while telling us, "It is fine. I'm fine. I'll just sit here and be fine."

Whether it was his boredom or his obsession with breasts, no one can be sure, but one night he announced that he had "created a new game." For some reason he referred to it as a drinking game, even though it did not involve consumption of alcohol at all. Edd's game was to walk around the crowded bar and "accidently" rub against women's chests with his elbow. Each time he would succeed he'd give himself a point.

"I scored five on that run," he'd tell us. "How many have you gotten tonight?"

"We told you, Edd, we're not playing that game."

"Okay, well, I'll just play by myself," he said before walking back into the crowd, his elbows raised in the air in an unnatural way as he swung them about trying to get them to land on a breast so he could score more points.

"I think your game is too easy," I told him as he related happily that he was up to 18 scores. "What would be challenging would be getting knee tit."

"Knee tit?"

"Yes, how many breasts can you touch with your knee before we leave."

Edd puzzled over this and appeared deep in thought. With that, he sat down on the other side of the table. That side was right alongside another table filled with young women. There Edd sat, slowly raising up his knee, looking for an opportunity.

"Okay, we're getting out of here before someone shoots Edd," my friend Martin said.

Ah yes, the deplorable behavior of the American male is not a clever fiction. The American male is often very weird and must be tamed and broken. You have your orders. 

 

For ReQuest 2019

Against my better judgment.

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