"Well fuck me."

At this, Sam wakes up. He knows something is wrong when I ignore his "don't mind if I do" reply. Me cradling my message machine was probably a pretty good indicator as well.

"What's wrong?"

I pour him a shot of gin and take another myself. I play him the message and sit back down on the bed, in a daze.

"Aw, man. That's a bummer...wait...does that mean that I have herpes too? Fuck me."

Suddenly, I cannot stop laughing. Hyenas laugh when they are fighting over carrion and feeling vulnerable. One of my anthropology professors planned to write a book about the phenomenon to prove that homo sapiens started as scavengers and not as hunters. He said that we also laugh when feeling vulnerable and we are the only animals on earth that laugh besides hyenas. I laughed at him, threw his pants at him and told him to get out of my bed. I had to go to class.

Sam starts laughing too and we are rolling all over my bed for at least ten minutes. When madness finally passes we lie and stare at the ceiling.

"I'm real sorry, Sam. I sort of deserve this, but you probably don't."

"Yeah. Well, we can't do much about it now. We better get tested and have sex with other unfortunates, I guess. Maybe I'll start wearing a patch or a pin or something. 'I have herpes, how about it?'"

I laugh. I examine the hem of my comforter. Sam begins to dress. As I watch him pull on his blue jeans, it comes to me.

"You know, that's actually not a bad idea. I love sex. It is what I do best. I am not letting this random Dirty Harry ruin that for me. We should start some sort of club. You know, like a leper colony, or a Christian singles club, but for people with herpes. What do you think?"

"I think you're crazy. But let me know if you start it up. I'm not actually gonna wear a pin, though."

Sam is not the sharpest crayon in the box. After he leaves, I call Dirty Harry back. I get his voicemail.

"You rat bastard. I can't believe you gave me herpes. Stop crying in your cheap whiskey. I have a plan."