“i’m relaxing; it’s 7:30 and “jeopardy” is about to come on and i look forward to “jeopardy” every day. i’m a beast at it. truth is, i'm a beast at a lot of stuff but i'm exceptional at dusting others at a game where knowledge of seemingly trivial people and dates is paramount to winning ridiculous amounts of fake money to flaunt in their faces. and for some reason there's something particularly satisfying about having someone admit defeat and quit playing me before the first commercial break.
me: "i would like 'losing at games' for $200 please."
alex trebek: "people do it when they play you in jeopardy..."
me: what is 'give up'?"
alex trebek: "that is correct!"
in high school i never really sucked at sports but i never really was a star at any either. i didn't really did well with the ladies; actually, i never really did anything with the ladies. i was a nerd and still am. but if knowing stuff other people didn't was my arena then i was the baddest gladiator in the colosseum. i was russell crowe before russell crowe was winning oscars for being me. so i say when bruce springsteen was singing about "glory days", my verse wouldn't have been about baseball or getting laid; it would have been about my exploits at "academic challenge". "smart" wasn't what i was as much as it was what i did. and i did "smart" well.
me: “'jeopardy question answering beasts' for $1,000 alex.”
alex trebek: “the best there is…”
me: “who is 'me'?”
alex trebek: “correct!”
i'm wearing a black suit with silver pinstripes, a white shirt and a silver tie that accented in white and red, with the matching handkerchief. i'm right; and my answers are as correct as i am. question after question, category after category; i'm ringing in and taking the points. it's so bad someone in the audience yells "steve spurrier" at me; like i'm running up the score; like i'm the "old ball coach" and this is an early 90's florida/tennessee game where i'm up 40 and still going for 2-point conversions. i'm not...but i have noticed that the woman contestant to my right isn't even holding her signaling button anymore. guess she said, "fuck it, i'll take the two grand". and the man to my left, whom i refer to as "jim tressel", looks like he's about to cry all over his sweater vest; he's so far in the negative he won't even get to see how the show ends. it's bad; a thorough ass-kicking for both. did i mention this is my arena?
me: "'inventive suicides' for $1600..."
alex trebek: "the method by which your fellow contestants will kill themselves after this humiliating experience..."
me: "what is 'hanging by jeopardy buzzer cord'?"
alex trebek: "we'll see!"
all i see are feet dangling, then a navy pump fall to the ground; i’m daydreaming…until i'm startled back to reality by the sound of her calling my name. standing before me, my own goddess in an immortal's attire: matching black bra and thong set. black's my favorite color and she goes hard in it; and i get hard, err, go hard for her.
me: "'immature sexual innuendo' for $2000..."
alex trebek: "the cartoonish sound a growing tree in your pants makes..."
me: "what is 'boi-ing'?"
alex trebek: "i've seen her too. boi-ing indeed."
but she looks incredible in any color and i'd still be getting scraped by my zipper regardless of what she was wearing, or its hue.
she straddles me while i lie on the couch, licking her lips as she brushes the straps of her bra over her shoulders and “jeopardy” is soon forgotten. with the remote in one hand, she turns off the television while the other unhooks her lacy top. slowly, it slides down onto me and i quickly sweep it to the floor. i reach up to touch her but she grabs my wrists before my hands can get to her breasts and she places them on her hips. i lean up to kiss her but she pushes me back down forcefully. she stares into my eyes and hers tell me that she's in control; there's an intensity in them that i've never seen before. they burn with desire; a focal point of a passion that seems to radiate throughout her entire body. i move my hands from her sides in an attempt to take off my shirt but she shifts forward and whispers into my ear to leave it on. my pants too. reaching back, she searches for my zipper and upon finding it, she unzips my jeans and pulls my erection through the front hole of my boxers and out into the open, but never letting go of it. she's a contradiction of words and actions; she strokes my length lovingly but she's spewing the filthiest language into my ear: nasty things like how she's gonna ride me all night and how she's gonna make me scream her name. she's wild; alternating between dropping 4-letter bombs into and licking my ear. she's turned on; the trail of saliva on my lobe confirms it. her focus shifts from my ear to my neck, biting and nibbling as she continues grinding on me. her thong is so drenched, the lower half of my t-shirt looks like i just came in from the rain. suddenly her oral assault stops; and she raises up to look me directly in the eyes. she mouths "i love you" at me and i mouth it back at her. and in that moment, we both know that no more words are needed. this is what we both want. and we want it now. so with almost no movement, she adjusts her body into a comfortable riding position. she doesn't even take her thong off, she simply moves the fabric to the side and places me inside of her.
me: "'current events' for $800..."
alex trebek: "the greatest feeling in the world..."
me: "what is 'me inside of her'?"
alex trebek: "i'm sorry, that's incorrect. the correct answer is 'what is knowing the woman you love loves you back'?"
like i said, i'm a beast at "jeopardy", but even i don't get every answer right."
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