I’m not quite sure what to say here. Some guy just offered me a handjob in exchange for a four hundred and forty four word foreword for a book I’ve never read. (Note how I wrote out “four hundred and forty four” in order to increase the word count. And note how I mentioned how I wrote out “four hundred and forty in order to once again increase the word count. Hell—I could just fill up the entire foreword by mentioning what I’ve mentioned so far. But I want to give this guy good value for his handjob. Although, now that I think of it, he might enjoy giving it more than I’ll enjoy receiving it. In fact, this might all just be a ploy just for him to give me a handjob. I’ll bet there’s no book at all. This guy probably runs some sort of “I’ll give you a handjob” scam year round. Which is actually a pretty good idea. Hell—I might want to give it a try after I’m done with this guy. But why would I want to give a bunch of strangers handjobs? And why do I want a handjob from this guy? I’m not even gay. Jeez—what the hell was I thinking? How did I get myself into this mess? Some random guy offers to stroke my Santa Maria and hold my Nina and Pinta, and I jump on the opportunity like he’s giving away gold. I should just drop this pad and walk away without saying anything. … OK. On three. Actually, I’ll go on two. That way he won’t see it coming. … One, TWO. … Darn it. I couldn’t do it. … Maybe I am gay. I mean, maybe my subconscious mind is urging me to stay. But then again, I’ve never found another man attractive. OK. Maybe I have. But I’ve never actually fantasized about another man. Except for that guy at work—Jim Sanders. … But that doesn’t mean I’m gay. I mean, that guy is really good looking. And did you see what he was wearing yesterday? … Shit—I better get the fuck out of here just to prove that I’m not gay. … OK. I’m going to do it this time. … One. TWO. … Did I do it? …. Well, I seem to be moving. Oh shit. I forgot to drop the pad. Uh oh. He’s following me. OK. I’m going to drop it and run. One, TWO