Regret

I met this 90 year old woman the other day. She was the sweetest lady; sweet like a bowl of sugar free candies. Before she left, she shook my hand. But let me tell you, she had the firmest handshake I've ever had the pleasure of feeling. It felt like she gave my hand a Swedish massage. Most men I know can't shake a hand as well as she did. It's not like she had man hands either. If that were the case I would have anticipated her senior death grip. But no, she had really delicate looking hands; magician hands, ninja hands...magician ninja hands. They were so soft, like she was no stranger to a daily moisturizer. Unfortunately I can't think quickly on my toes; especially when my hand is being crushed. That's where the word "regret" comes to mind. I regret not challenging the old bag to a hand duel or a hand off if you will. Have you ever made a 90 year old woman cry? Yeah, neither have I. But, there's a first time for everything. And that could have been my first. Not that I would want to make the 90 year old woman cry. But, I mean she's the one who brought the pain first. I should have brought it right back to her until one us gave up.

Then we could have transitioned into a thumb war. I probably would have won because I'm assuming she has arthritis in her hands. However, if she has arthritis then she would probably beat me in a shadow puppet battle and possibly a gang sign battle. 

What about that hand slap game? If she slaps as hard as she squeezes then she would have a severe advantage. Then again I'm probably quicker. Or I would hope so anyway. What about a slap bet battle? Well, she's been through the Great Depression, a bunch of war time eras, some other serious shit and she birthed like eight babies. It's safe to say that life has slapped her around a few times. So, she could probably take more slaps to the face than I could.

What about rock, paper, scissors? I can't be certain but I think that she had a glass eye in her left eye socket, which leads me to believe that I could rely on my quickness to pull a fast one on her. I could shoot my signs to her left side so she couldn't see, then switch it up right quick if I had to. Or I could just make shit up. She would be like, "I win. Scissors beats paper." Then  I'd be like, "No. I don't think so. This isn't paper. Haven't you ever seen Edward Scissor Hands? My whole hand is covered with scissors right now. Use your imagination. If anything it should be a tie. Or I should win because my scissors would totally shred your dinky scissors. Or maybe my hand could just be a hand again and I could slap the crap out of you right now. How do you feel about that? It's your move Betty White."

Oh well. It would have been a great battle of battles. Who knows, maybe we'll meet again. And if...I mean when that time comes...I'll be ready.

- Ryan