Last night I slept in such a fashion that I awoke in great discomfort with both arms completely numbed and pinned underneath me, hands clutched tightly to my chest.


Switching positions would ease the discomfort, but my appendages were locked and irresponsive. On this first try, I furiously worked to move myself to a more comfortable position by kicking and wriggling, only to find my legs enmeshed and twisted in the tonnage of an organic, monstrous swamp-like comforter. Trapped deep within the vines of this down-stuffed jungle there was no prayer for rescue.


I ground my teeth. “Calm down. Be cool. Focus,” I thought. Using my powerful glutes as ballast I first flexed my left ass-cheek, channeling all of the blood to that side, and then I flexed the right, causing all the blood to be redirected to that side. Left cheek, then right cheek until the inertia improved the breadth of my sway, and I could pivot on my stomach. The hope was to provide the clearance required to extricate my dead guns. But I lost my rhythm and sputtered to a stop.


Concerned that my energy-levels had drained so swiftly from struggling furiously in this mire, I considered a third and final effort. I had no choice but to tender the release of these useless meat logs, or I would die there in my bed, passive and in decay. There was no food, no water and no way to communicate the severity of this pusillanimous infirmity attacking me while I slept. Death loomed.


On attempt #3 I flexed my glutes until I got rocking. I breathed deeply and visualized freedom. If I focused I could summon up the requisite conviction and WILL my arms outward once my chest cleared a path for the escape.


“Do it, Arms of America! Left arm, MOVE NOW!” My left arm LEAPT out from underneath my trunk as my body rocked to the right! Deftly and without loss of power, I whipped the arm to full extension to get the blood and nerve connections aligned. I took pause to recognize this glorious achievement.


Under the trauma of stress my computer raced on, calculating the timing and writing the code that would liberate me. The universe decelerated. Each frame of this motion picture clicked into my retina. In each frame I parsed the data and prepared my next coordinated move as my container lumbered leftward across the bed. At the end of the swing I executed the directive, “Do it, Arms of America! Right arm, MOVE NOW!”


The last arm shot outward and time ramped up. I snapped the second arm to extension and collapsed face-down on the bed, gasping for air, where I would remain until I could initiate the auxillary power systems. I thought calming thoughts during this potentially harrowing sixty seconds until sufficient enough strength returned to the arms as to liberate my legs of the sheets and roll myself onto my back, a free man!


Humble yourself before your god this evening.



[c] 2006 Russ of America


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