Sucker-punch

Matthew and I were laughingly scuffling over the espresso machine this morning. I was threatening to pour a shot into my coffee cup, rendering his almost-finished americano undrinkable until the next shot was drawn. I pulled out a technique I learned from my first college roommate, Jenny; I like to call this move "the butt." Basically I tried to ward off Matthew's attempts at getting to the machine by physically distancing him from it. Well, his arms are too long, and he easily reached his cup past me and under the espresso spout. I told him I was going to sucker punch him, so he offered me his arm. I KNEW I shouldn't take the shot, but I did.

I'm the sucker, to be sure. My wrist hurts like the dickens and his arm hardly knows it was struck. I don't think anything is broken, but we both heard a pop. Might have been a knuckle. Anyway, we were reconciled over coffee on the back porch; my pride is, I must admit, still suffering with my wrist.