The Truth

"Do you like to go to yoga?"

"Oh yeah." I've never been. 

"We should go soon."

"Please." I am very busy these days. 

"What's your favorite pose?"

"Dead dog." This sounded wrong. She made a face. "It's a joke...HAHAHA!"

"Haha!"

"I'm not always a joker."

"No, but seriously, what's your favorite pose?"

"It's hard to pick." I started to sweat. "I'd say the one where you twist around and stuff...HAHAHA!"

"Shut up." She said this curtly. I was laughing and sweating like a maniac and she looked like she was prepared to murder me.

"Look, if I'm going to be honest, I do not have a perfect memory. When I was in Vietnam, I saved hundreds of lives. I risked my own life in order to do so. This one Tuesday morning, I remember I had biscuits for breakfast, I saw fear in John McCain's eyes for the first time ever. Without any hesitation, I began sprinting. I ran faster than I ran when I qualified for the World Championships in the 200m. As I dove into John McCain, a Viet Cong bullet protruded my skull. I made it out alive that day, and thanks to me, so did John McCain. But now. Now, I don't hear so good. I don't think properly sometimes. Occasionally, I loudly belch. And you know what, my memory may be a little bit damaged. I try to remember. I try to remember what my favorite yoga pose is, but sometimes I come up short. I come up gasping for air trying to hang on for anything I can. It can be embarrassing. It can be depressing, and it can be devastating. But I'll never give up."

The woman stared at me for a moment. I think she's into me. 

"I hate John McCain," she said as she walked away.