Touch Charles

My friend and I were recently having a conversation. I would tell you what the conversation was about, but I was probably drunk can’t seem recall what could have possibly brought us to the following topic.

Sometimes we stop everything we’re doing to make plastic-surgery-faces at each other.

Coulda been that. Who knows.

Regardless, he enlightened me with a gem of a story, and possibly a very up-and-coming new game in all the school yards. Watch out, hopscotch.

He tells me, “In high school, my friends and I played a game called ‘Touch Charles.’

We often played it during lunch time.

We would squeeze Charles, pinch Charles and twist Charles.

We loved to touch Charles.”

I bet you’re wondering who the shit Charles is?  In fact, you’re likely pitying Charles because who the fuck wants to get pinched and twisted every lunch hour?  If you’re nodding and secretly wishing your name was Charles, that’s your business.

Well, my friends, rest easy, cuz I bet you didn’t guess Charles is actually the skin over my friend’s left abdominal muscle.

True story.  Soak that in.

He later turns to me and says “Damnit, now I can’t stop touching Charles.”

*

Thinking this was the most fantastically strange thing anyone’s told me in awhile, I decide to share this insane hilarious game with a friend of mine.

She laughed a little and then said “Well, I named my cleavage hair Charlotte.”

Moral of this story: I need some new fucking friends. You guys are weird.

P.S. I love you very much.