muggings.

I hope I never get mugged. Partly because I’m really ticklish. If someone jabbed a gun between my ribs, I’d have a hard time not giggling. And if there’s one thing that would really ruin the whole scary, life-threatening ambience that a mugger is going for, it’s giggling. Everyone knows how awful it feels to be laughed at. The mugger would probably take it really personally—hurt feelings, etc. I imagine that since the mugger turned to mugging in the first place, he’s already susceptible to low self-esteem. I’d have to explain that it’s not him that I’m laughing at. “No, no, you’re doing a great job. I am very, very scared. Terrified even. I’m just really ticklish. Hey, here’s my wallet.” But of course, despite my numerous attempts to reassure him, he wouldn’t believe me. His pride wounded, his fragile ego shattered, he’d scamper off and probably not even enjoy the drugs he would purchase with the cash from my wallet. His day would be totally ruined. And I’d feel awful too.