Feeling Bruised?

A British Stewardess asked me this

on the plane because her cart

slammed me on her way

towards the back of the aisle.

I was sitting in the

middle of coach,

cramped, miserable, bloated.

At first, I thought she meant

my female troubles,

like she could sense it

by my cringe,

but when she rubbed the growing

ache on my naked arm with a

french manicured thumb,

I knew she was just apologizing for

being clumsy.

She understood.

Her smile said it all.

What a smart girl.

When we landed at Heathrow,

the bruise had become a welt,

but I didn't mind.

Blood rushing elsewhere was

a relief.

She royally waved by the exit

"Bye now, bub bye, take care, bye now,"

she said to exiting passengers.

As I passed, I pointed to my arm

and said sarcastically:

"My pitching career is over! Thanks Sweetie!"

Her eyes grew wide and she looked like

she wanted to run.

I was sure she thought I was gay

and hitting on her.

Maybe she wasn't so smart after all.

Why do chics do that?

Not everyone in this world

wants to get in your pants, lady.

Try getting over yourself for once.

Sometimes I get what guys are talking about

when they say we're nothin' but trouble.