Post by bazooka on Oct 31, 2019 22:08:54 GMT
How hard is it to surprise professional soldiers?
It can be very painful.
My relative “Meira” brought home her very handsome recently released Israeli soldier boyfriend, “Yochai.” Yochai was damn fine looking. I mean, I’ve seen handsome guys, but Yochai could have been a male model. Not only was he a blond bombshell, with huge blue eyes, perfect features and flawless skin, but he was in an elite combat unit, and it showed.
He was a brick, lean and tanned and muscled. Every inch of him was like a Greek statue.
And when he walked in, jaws dropped. From my mother, to my little niece Tiger, everyone was pretty much in awe of this manful man.
“Man of valor, seek him out, for his pecs are tighter than rubies,” I quipped.
Meira smirked. “I know, right?”
Now, my brother Bill got very jealous of this whippersnapper, especially after a pool party where Yochai removed his shirt, and every woman in the backyard (including my mother) blushed and most of us were nudging Meira knowingly. Yochai had the grace to blush as well. He was really humble and shy, but my brother wanted to put him in his place.
“Hey, Yochai, want to play one on one basketball?” he asked.
Yochai agreed and the two walked a few blocks to the park, and began playing. After a few minutes, Yochai hears squeals from some teenage girls. He looks in their direction, and seems a bit taken aback.
My brother decided to body check him a little while he was distracted. Nothing much, just sneak up behind him and give him a good shove.
Unfortunately, Yochai’s body was a wall and Bill slammed into it. Yochai was so strong, he didn’t even move. But my brother bounced off him and landed on the concrete.
Yochai turned, wondering what just happened. He saw Bill on the floor, writhing in severe pain. Apparently, my brother had put out his back and had the wind knocked out of him. He was currently seeing stars and wondering if he should go into the light.
“All okay?” Yochai asks in Hebrew.
Bill is whimpering now, spasming in pain. “Die…” he says.
Now, Yochai’s English is bad, so he didn’t know my brother was hoping for a mercy blow to end his pain. In Hebrew, “die” means “enough.”
Obviously, my brother had enough and needed to go home. So Yochai picks up my brother over his shoulder, and begins carrying him home.
My brother isn’t sure what is more wounded, his dignity or his back. It was a tough choice, as Yochai ran home, effortlessly carrying him. “All okay,” he says cheerfully.
He carried Bill back home, and even put him onto the couch to rest. “Be careful when you play basketball. You don’t want to hurt yourself,” he says, to my brother’s misery.
Yochai and Meira broke up, sadly, but I’ll always owe him for that memory.
