This is what peer pressure must feel like, even at 29? To be suckered… I mean, harassed… I mean, threatened with "Sookie Timeout"…is completely uncalled for at this stage in my life. Yes, I have managed to regress 20 years, overnight. Those traitors. If I end up in therapy those bastards are going to pay…physically and monetarily. No way am I claiming it on my insurance. Throw a damn ball across the room…assholes.

So here I stand in my club's indoor basketball court, with 4 grown men of questionable sanity, waiting to be trained in the finer aspects of Dodgeball. Why is training even necessary? How hard can it be to throw a ball and not get hit by one? What kind of coordination do you need? It seems like we could just meet 10 minutes before the game for a plan. You get that fucker, I'll take this fucker…BREAK. Done.

NOPE. Not that simple. This Pam person said there is a science to this fine art. Apparently the extreme concentration and hand-eye coordination necessary for survival can only be learned. OK, Yoda - that part made me chuckle. She kept talking about the 5 D's or something. I started tuning out and ended up just placing the telephone receiver on my desk while I took a piss. Fine, whatever, if you say so lady. All I know is, Sookie will be training with us…and I got a date out of it.

A few minutes later Sookie walks in, wearing tiny shorts I might add, with…a soccer mom? Hmm, we have another member of the team? How is this person going to play - excuse me, train – wearing a cardigan sweater and loafers? And why does she have a tool box? Interesting.

"Hey, Sookie." She looks so good.

"Hi guys! This is Pam. She was just inducted into the Dodgeball Hall of Fame last year. She's going to help us train for the tournament."

Stan, pointing to Pam and looking at her loafers, "Is this person serious?"

In an octave so low and flat, you would think she was channeling Barry White, Pam replies, "I ain't crazy, I ain't lady and I ain't a guy. I'm Pam O'Houlihan, and I'm your coach. I'm just kidding. I really am crazy."

SILENCE.

The soccer mom is a guy?

"Uh, okay. I'm Eric. This is Stan, Laf, Clancy and Appius." Everyone nods to Pam, afraid to speak. Very wise.

"Well, isn't this promising bunch of flesh. So, you say we only have a week to train before the tournament? Hmm, I might have to take an aggressive approach to your training. Is everyone current on their tetanus shot?" What? We need immunizations to play dodgeball?

"Everyone, you should think as dodgeball as Darwinism at its best. Only the strong survive. The weak are crushed. The hair from your balls will be waxed from your bodies. By the time you finish your week of training, your sense of self-preservation will be instinctive. There will be no hesitation. In this game, it's either KILL or be KILLED." Wait, I'm confused. Are we still talking about dodgeball? Waxing?!

"Dodgeball is exactly like life, you have to grab it by the balls, don't let them dangle…and sometimes you just have to squeeze." Holy Shit!

"I'm kind of afraid. " Yes, Stan that is a correct assessment.

"You will be. You…will…be." Damn she's scary.

"To expedite your training, I brought my tool box…and wax." Huh?

"The basic principles of dodgeball can be summed up by the 5 D's. Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive and…Dodge."

"Why is 'Dodge' listed twice?" Jesus Christ, Stan! Shut the fuck up. She's opening her tool box. We don't have an outlet to heat up your wax, pycho.

"Because…when I throw 2 screwdrivers at you, you better double-dodge."

"Screwdrivers?" He'll never learn and may die in the process.

"See." She just fucking threw a screwdriver!

"You're going to throw screwdrivers at us? I signed up for balls." For the love of God, Laf.

"Yes, me too. If I aim correctly, I might just get both of them. Where's my wax?" I can't risk my balls for this shit! Sookie has to have my babies…which I will fill her in on later. Pam is a …sadist? Sadomasochist? Whatever she is, she's fucking nuts.

"Pam, is this the safest method of training?"

"I like to prepare for worst case scenarios, Sookie."

"But screwdrivers?"

"Oh, no. The tools are just for my enjoyment."

"Excuse us for a moment. Sookie, could I have a word, please?"

"Sookie! Were you aware of Pam's training techniques? I use the word 'technique' very loosely here. And how does waxing work into all of this? You have some esplaining to do."

"Of course I didn't know, Eric! I only watched her in games. I'm sorry. I didn't think to ask what fucking tools she planned on using to throw at us. But I need to make a reminder to update my tetanus shot." That's it! She owes me 2 dates now.

"Alright girls! Let's see what you got. Stand against the wall and spread out." I can't remember why I agreed to this shit.

"Appius! What the hell are you doing? I'm not a cop. Does it look like I want to frisk your old ass?" We'll need to notify his next of kin.

"Remember the object of the game is NOT to get hit. Today's object is to survive for another day."

Not even 5 minutes into our slaughter and Clancy is down. Fuck. Shit, here comes Pam.

"Clancy, it's just a flash wound. Stop crying. Crying is for baseball and peewee football."

"Pam, the fucking screwdriver is imbedded into my thigh!"

"Oh, it's just a tiny screwdriver. Pussy." To her credit, it is a small screwdriver. A band-aid, some antibiotic ointment, and he should be good to go.

The next 45 minutes was a fight for our lives. Seeing the screwdrivers in the wall behind us was a little disconcerting. However, Pam said what didn't kill us would make us stronger. Never has an adage held so much meaning until now.

"Hey, Pam?"

"Yes, Goldilocks?" Bitch.

"Are you purposely aiming at Stan's head?"

"Yes. I will continue to do so until he figures it out or his head begins to swell." Safer to just walk away while I still can.

On Tuesday, we switched to rubber balls to our delight. Pam was nice enough to inform us she'd start throwing pliers if we fucked up in any capacity. How nice. Poor Appius seemed to have difficulty with his lack of aggression. To our horror, Pam rectified that situation fucking fast.

"Appius? You realize you need to put force behind your throws, correct? You can't have the ball bounce a few times and hope the other player trips on it, now can you?" Appius, it's a trap!

"I guess I don't have an aggressive personality."

"This is a game of survival, Appius. You have to get in there, you have to get mean!" OMG! She just fucking junk punched him! Oh fuck! MAN DOWN! Stay down man, don't get up, don't make eye contact.

"Just remember…my fist was the ball."

The next day it was decided we needed a team name for our uniforms. I was strongly opposed to having any sort of memorabilia commemorating this event. Once again peer pressure stuck it's nosy ass in my business. I'm upping their membership dues…traitors. I can't wait for my first therapy session. Sookie said she's schedule it for me.

"Did everyone come up with at least one suggestion for a team name?" No…and I'm doubling your membership dues, Stan.

"What do you think of 'Hard Targets'?" I don't think that applies to us, Laf.

"How about 'Don't Stop Ballieving'?" Nice try Appius, dare to dream.

"I like 'The Dodgefathers'." I wonder if the infection in Clancy's thigh spread to his brain. I think that name implies a killer instinct existed to some degree. We're on the other side of the spectrum – way, way on the other side.

"I have some ideas." Pam…this should be interesting.

"Let's hear them." Stan, you brown-noser.

"How about 'Sitting Ducks'?" That's a good one. I can see that one applying to us.

"'Not In the Face'?" Oh, yeah, that would be very helpful for our opposing team. It would save time from us having to ask them.

"'Balls and Wieners'?" I'm not wearing a shirt with that shit on it.

"'Pam's Bitches'?" Very true.

"This one is my personal favorite. How about 'We're Aiming For the Fat One…'?"

Stan laughs to Pam, "Do you think we could get away with it?"

"I have one. How about 'Picked Last'?" I can think of perfect times to wear that shirt. I like it.

"Maybe we should have a name close to our hearts…'If You Can Dodge A Screwdriver…'?" Everyone nods in agreement.

"Yeah, that's a good one, Sookie."

"Well guys, Bill decided to hang his team name out in front of his gym about 30 minutes ago, promoting the tournament. It's actually kind of fitting given the name of his fitness club. I personally think it should be his slogan, place it on all of his dick bottles."

Sookie laughs, "Bill and his dick bottles. What's the name, Eric?"

"'Go Balls Deep.'" It's so fucked up. I can't stop laughing. God, my side hurts again. We got to appreciate Bill for something.

We decide, after our Team Name meeting, to meet Friday night at the bar down the street for some bonding before Saturday's tournament. God knows I'll need a drink or 5. Fucking Dodgeball tournament.

I don't know what's more depressing, needing alcohol or knowing I have to shove what little dignity I have left out the door tomorrow morning. I hope my family never finds out. Thank goodness they live in another state a thousand miles away. Oh, the fucking humiliation. Maybe I can fake an injury. I can get a cramp on the treadmill. I can trip down the stairs. We only have two steps out in front of my gym but I can make it work. I don't want to fucking participate in this fucking tournament, but I also don't want to get my ass handed to me by getting smacked by a ball. This is what I get for opening Pandora's Box. Only various degrees of bad shit crazy can happen now. Oh, I forgot, I got 2 dates out of dignity sacrifice. Maybe I should add that to my uniform…"I got 2 dates out of this'?" Fuck that, I'll add it even if I have to get a sharpie to put it on.

Enough of self-loathing, time to meet the team and hope I end up in the emergency room overnight.

"Hey guys. What are you drinking?" Our waitress asks.

"Coke."

"Water."

"Tea."

"Coffee."

"Diet Coke."

"I'll take two shots of Tequila, a shot of Jagermeister and a beer, please."

"Is that wise, Eric?"

"Oh, yeah. After all that, I'll only drink beer. I'll be great."

"Does anyone know anything about Bill's team?" Thanks for looking out for us, Pam. She's not so bad. Well, look at that, my vision is a little fuzzy.

"I heard they have a consultant/ coach/ mentor. Some guy named Felipe De Castro. He's some Spanish Dodgeball badass. He took Spain my storm and decided to conquer the states. Apparently he has a thing for Zorro. He even has a cape! On special occasions, he busts out his mask. Maybe we'll get lucky tomorrow. He brought his dog, Victor Madden, with him. The guy is twisted. They say he's a pervert and only has one ball. Something about a wooden stake and a door knob, I don't know what that means. Clancy said Sigebert's his twin brother is going to play. He has two lazy eyes, so we have that going for us. I think they got the VISA worked out on their secret weapon. The rumor is she has XXY chromosomes. I guess we'll wait and see what that looks like tomorrow as well. Their last team member is Andre LeClerq. Now this guy is a freak. The word I got from one of the members at House of Pleasure is that he has a David Chappelle obsession. He dresses up like Chappelle's Rick James impersonation…man heels and all. I'm excited to see his routine. I hear it's pretty good."

Well, well, hasn't Stanny Boy been productive this week. Why are there two Sookie people? When did she get a sister? Where did I put that sharpie? I do have big feet! Stan looks like a young nerdy Dwight Yoakum. I wonder if he can sing, too. Oh, look who just walked into the bar…Mr. Goodman and his consigliore friend man-beast. Why does he have a dry erase board around his neck?

Sick him, Pam!