I'm Stuck! No You're Not!

Our friends Holly and Rafael used to own a bed with a metal headboard. You've perhaps seen the kind; bent tubing outer frame, with five or six vertical bars going from left to right, or right to left, depending on your preference.

As the story goes, Holly (affectionately known in her pre marriage days as horizontal Holly) and Rafael are um, how shall I say – well – they're making love. Rafael, refuses to medicate his bi-polar disorder rendering him extravagantly romantic, impractical and rashly unpredictable. Tonight he is maintaining his pattern of doing everything with great enthusiasm. The bed is rocking, his wife is squeaking, or his wife is rocking and the bed is squeaking, depending on your preference, when Holly, a woman of some intellect notices an unusual pause.

“What's the matter?” she asks.

“I'm stuck,” replies Rafi with a fair bit of surprise and just a hint of alarm.

“No you're not,” offers a perennially sanguine Holly. She squeaks and rocks, in an attempt to get things back up to speed.

“Ouch! Stop it,” cries Rafi. “I told you, I'm stuck!”

“Rafael, you are not stuck. I've had three kids. It is not physically possible for you to be stuck.

“Not that kind of stuck. My head. My head is stuck between the pipes.”

Sure enough. While both Rafael and Holly are atheists, the position of missionaries was chosen for this occasion. This allowed, if not precisely caused, Rafi's head to ram straight between two of the vertical aluminium pipes. Upon expanding enough to let his head through, these cheap flutes immediately closed back with vice like strength to hold him tight behind the temples.

Now, Rafael is not a small man, neither is he a man of little strength. However, the physical position of his body made it simply impossible to extricate his noggin, while holding himself up at the same time.

Dear Holly had to remove herself from under her husband. She went to the garage (a feat of some courage while naked in the winter in Saskatchewan in an unheated garage), and found a short block of 4x4 and a large pry bar. Through fits of laughter (from both parties) Holly managed to spread the pipes. As his big, bald, bean re experienced the sensation of it's own physical birthing, and while struggling to maintain consciousness through searing pain, Rafi is certain he heard a far off voice, “You're coming. Pull out! Pull out!” This triggered in Rafi a vague nostalgic memory which, Rafi says, warmed him and created sentimental feelings of love for Holly.

Later, Rafael sat on the edge of the bed, stared blankly at the wall opposite, while ruminating on the sheer strangeness of life.