(So I Did)
or
Sometimes Spam is a Treet

If you're ever sitting in the airport waiting for a plane, or sitting on a subway or bus or sitting in a bar, and you feel a little tickle or tingle on your clit, maybe it's just a trick of your circulation. Or maybe not. Look around and if you see an average-looking guy with a mole on the right side of his neck, scratching his finger on his seat or one next to him, then give me a wave. If you don't mind my little hobby, mouth the word "thanks," and if you do, "stop" works pretty good.

I don't know how I got to be the way I am. I wasn't hit by lightning and I didn't down some weird chemicals. I didn't even subject myself to massive amounts of gamma radiation. Puberty was pretty normal for me and I've never had a concussion. All I know is that one day I was looking for my keys, but they didn't seem to be anywhere in my apartment. So I was doing all the usual shit, retracing my steps, looking in the same place two or three times, like that. Anyway, I put my hand in my pocket again, just in case I missed them the first time I checked there and I almost but didn't quite feel them. Like I was feeling the ghost of them or maybe I was feeling them wrapped in cotton. And I could not-quite-feel more metal around them, in a cylindrical shape. On a hunch, I opened the apartment door and there they were, sticking out of the doorknob.

Weird, huh?

Then, another time I bought an alarm clock at K-mart. I paid for it with a fifty and got a twenty back with my change. I could feel that twenty vibrating and pulling me, even through my wallet. Or maybe it wasn't a pull. Maybe it was more like when you wet your finger and hold it up to feel which way the breeze is blowing. I felt that twenty guiding me. I followed the pushing and pulling of that bill for about five miles, turning left, then right, then left, following a more or less diagonal path from the store until I found myself outside a suburban split-level with a boy of about twelve playing with a Tonka dumptruck on the sidewalk. He would push the little truck as hard as he could up the sidewalk, then run and chase after it, then push it back in the other direction. I could feel the bill in my wallet trying to follow him, tugging one way and then pushing the other. I got out of my car and said hello to him. Naturally he was a little wary of me, since I was a stranger, but it was probably his house he was in front of and being on his own turf gave him a enough courage to talk to me. I asked him where he got the truck. He said he'd bought it at the K-mart earlier that day.

"You mean your mom and dad bought it for you?"

"No, I bought it myself. My gramma sent me twenty dollars for my birthday last month."

No shit. The same twenty-dollar bill I had in my wallet, I bet.

As an experiment, I took that twenty out of the money compartment of my wallet and put it behind my driver's license, so I wouldn't accidentally spend it. For a week or so, I could feel every move that kid made. Mostly to school and back, I assume. But over time, the feeling went away. When I couldn't feel him any more, I spent the twenty on a carton of Salems. As I left the store, I could feel the twenty pulling on me. Later in the day, I felt it moving. That night, I followed the tugging of the bill until I was sitting in my car outside a bank.

So I went home and had a long think. I went over every possibility and none of them made sense. So I went over every impossibility until I thought I had an answer. I'm not going to tell you what the answer is but you can probably figure it out. Thing is though, it didn't work out when I tried it again. I knew I hadn't imagined that week when that twenty had been tugging on me, trying to get back to the boy, or when it was calling me to the bank. So, it was real and it worked for a long time but then it didn't work any more after I doped out a reason.

So from then on, every time a new ability crops up, I don't wonder about it too much. Maybe it's the thinking that kills it. I hear Plato said that all the planets and stars were set on big crystal balls inside each other and the earth was in the center of all these balls. Then this guy Newton looked up in the sky and thought about it and said bullshit. Maybe Plato was right until Newton came along. Maybe Newton busted Plato's balls. All I know is, as long as I don't think about it too much, I can feel how many eggs are cracked in a carton at the supermarket, I can tell how many people are on a given floor of a building, I can read the graffiti scratched on a bathroom stall even when it's been painted over, and I've never lost my keys again.

Oh yeah, and I can tickle women's clits from across the room.

Well, not exactly from across the room. I have to be in contact with the same kind of seat she's on, and I have to be able to see her. So if a woman is sitting on a barstool and I'm at a table, I can't touch her. And all I can do is tickle her. I tried pinching an ass once and it gave me a headache. Don't know why, don't want to know why. I can't really make a woman cum that way. If I'm sitting on the same seat as her, I can sometimes. I was at a wedding once, and there was a pretty woman on the same pew as me. I diddled my finger on the empty space beside me for a few minutes. It didn't take long for her to turn beet-red and give a little shiver, then slump down a little on the pew. That was fun. So are high school football games, but then I can never tell if a woman is getting excited because of me or because of the score. Mostly, all I can do is give a little tickle. I can't even really feel what I'm tickling. It's like with the keys; almost like I can feel the shadow of a pussy. But it's fun anyhow.