an ode to peter emerick, part three

So, last week, after waking up on my nearly deflated air mattress, I stumbled over to my computer to check my e-mail and get ready for my day.  The morning was like any other:  the sun was shining, the air was humid, my inbox was filled with pornographic spam.  All things considered, I was expecting an entirely normal day.  That was, of course, until I turned around and witnessed the most spectacular sight the world has ever known.

Peter Emerick, in deep slumber, laid face down on his bed, completely naked and unashamed.  No amount of cloth obstructed my vision of this beautiful creature.  I basked in it’s glory.  The back muscles:  sensual.  The calves:  erotic.  The buttocks:  sublime.  The grundel:  indescribable.  As I confirmed my camera phone had caught the full spectacle of the raw image, I thought to myself, “Could this be any better?”  

As if a guardian angel were hearing my plea, Peter’s body tensed, his lungs let out a soft grunt, and slowly he turned over on his back, revealing to me a majesty that, I believe, surpassed Moses’s experience on the mount.  My friends, the bush may not have been burning, but it was magnificent, and I believe I felt the touch of God.  No picture could do the scene justice…but I took one anyway.