October 1st 6pm - Pillow Fight

In certain facets of life, I'm Rocky Balboa-competitive. Pillow fighting is one of them.
In Dharamsala, a German, Dane, and I shared a room that was more a house with five-year-old triplets than a haven for transients in their twenties. It had more rooms than I have brain cells. The primary chamber boasted three couches, a coffee table, and single and double beds. Adjoining it, a kitchen with two tables, counters, a sink, wooden shelves and cupboards. The kitchen was as effective as Bill Clinton's Monica Lewinsky denial. It had no stove or oven.
In addition to an over-sized bathroom, we also had an extra room that, aside from a pile of cat shit, was vacant.
One night we watched a movie and afterwards lay down. The Dane and I shared the massive king-sized bed. It was large enough to comfortably sleep three Goliaths. I was more tired than a narcoleptic and my eyes shut as gently as a one-year-old on opiates. As I yawned the yawn of the weak and weary, my skull cracked into my pillow. The pillow was as plump as an anorexic flea and my head shot back into the mattress with the speed of a cracked-out Kiwi. "What the hell?" I banshee-shrieked. My eyes gaped to see the Dane laying back with the calm of Jesus, a Judas smile frolicking across his face. His right hand gripped his pillow like it was the meaning of life. His aquamarine eyes oscillated in the moonlight, emanating mirth like a zoo monkey who had just catapulted primate excrement at spectators. I rabid-dog-attacked him. Within seventy-four seconds I had succeeded in swiping at him twice and my skull had been cudgeled so many times I felt like King Kong had headbutted me. At seventy-six seconds the Dane's eight-pack and Viking body straddled me, pinning me against the mattress. I was as helpless as if I had been handcuffed and blindfolded by drunk bandits.
I maneuvered my legs for leverage and my Shrek foot connected with his ass skin.
"Are you naked?!" I screeched.His laughing confirmation sent the German into hyena hysterics.
"Why are you naked?" I howled in the same eighty-year-old woman panic shriek.
The Dane launched a blanket over his lap and withdrew laughing.
"I just always sleep naked. Sorry, I didn't think you'd respond to a pillow hit like a deranged bull."

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