PyjamaSam just didn’t enjoy cigars.

I had been trying for years to get him to indulge in the overpriced luxury with me, but he gently refused once again, standing his ground. Even though a capsuleer himself, with considerable wealth, he was too pragmatic to ever overpay for anything that wasn’t a necessity. Of course, his definition of what was deemed necessary differed from most. If it was technical gadgetry, or something he could use for many crazy ideas and pursuits, it was a must to have and would therefore be acquired regardless of cost.

I could respect that.

It was seldom that Sam and I got to enjoy any downtime together, but such was life. The fact we were able to enjoy each other’s company for a few fleeting moments was something I treasured, and as I sat with Sam in the comfort of my ship’s quarters, reading ‘fanmail’ and enjoying a few beers, our conversation turned to friendship and its inherent value.

I shared with Sam that I recently had this conversation with another longtime acquaintence, which led to asking one another why we were actually friends. In response, the other friend had this to say:

“Roc, you’re my friend because you make me laugh, shake my head. You’re a touchstone of reality that I need to base what’s right and wrong in the universe.”

I took that as high praise.

I put the same question to Sam. It seemed appropriate given the candor of our conversation, our longtime friendship, and the fact we didn’t get to catch up with each other as often as we used to.

Sam’s response?

“Well, you like huge cocks, and I have one.”

I shook my head, and we both laughed. Neither of us was well suited for touchy feely conversations, and that was his way of telling me to shut it up and have another beer, which I gladly did.

—

They wouldn’t let me sleep. I overheard them talking about sleep deprivation as a way of reducing my mental barriers, making me more susceptible to therapy and treatment.

They were so out of their league with me. I’d been through hell and back several times. I had frequent flyer miles.

They wanted to wear me down? They wanted to break me?

I just laughed some more, thinking of Sam, thinking of the good times, thinking of thick, veinous, totally inappropriate penii. I cackled until I wept.