LAUGH NOW

Wrapped neatly in a shiny red bow, my laugh is the gift that keeps on giving. It is by far among God’s greatest creations. Is there a more versatile weapon than The Laugh?

It is a social lubricant of sorts. A well-timed laugh can ease an awkward silence, and even endear a stranger. It’s widely documented that I generally dislike People, so can you imagine NOT having the option of laughing behind one’s back?? *shudder*

It is a natural punctuation. Small giggles hook long explanations like commas. Drawn out cackles connect compound sentences…like an ellipsis. Inappropriate laughs clank like dangling participles or grammatically incorrectibles. Involuntarily, often.

Ever diffuse a situation with the simple stroke of a snicker? Tension high and thick like butter. Then a loud, languid laugh slices through it like a warm knife. Now that’s power. Speaking of which…

Laughter garners control. While on the one hand it aims to charm and perhaps even disarm, a laugh is lethal when flexed like a strong arm. I’ll admit, I’m not exactly always conscious and calculated about it, but I recognize it when it happens. The effect is fantastic, as power tends to be.

But what happens when you find that the big stick you wield is no longer the biggest on the block? When your laugh is merely the baseline for another? When you’re the one disarmed and charmed? When that other laugh resonates, echoes even, at decibels beyond your capacity?

My legs parted slightly, trembling already, involuntarily of course. A tongue tracing in ALL CAPS along my skin, exclamation points abound. My mind a mess of meandering moments, maybe more or less than a full second. Not sure. Lost, kind of.

Generously self-lubricated and aware that I generally dislike People, but let this one in. Deep, in fact.

To the point of no return. Beyond the door at which control is checked and relinquished.

A shiny red ribbon tying neat figure 8s around My Spot. It’s no joke now. Ask my legs. They refuse to stop shivering. Ask my mind, and you’ll get no answer. Blank stares as I’m climbing blank stairs, no labels or signs to direct me.

My legs parted wide, the trembling now concentrated under my skin where I can’t reach it. And though my hands are useless anyways, occupied by scalp, I don’t want anything altered. Not the rhythm, not the angle, not anything about this particular pubic probe.

Except that would require relinquishing control. And I can’t even do that, just this once.

Cue the well-timed Laugh. Long and lean like an interfering defensive back. Blindsiding the moment...mid-munch.

The abrupt awkward silence. My legs wide shut. Tight. The recall of personal space...and control. Such a versatile weapon.

The greatest gift…and curse.

Damn.