“Just…I don’t know, do it normal. Call me Jenny and I’ll call you Drew.”
Normal? What the fuck is normal?!
“What? But that doesn’t even make sense! We’re not normal. We’re dirty and filthy, and I don’t know what is going on right now!”
I think my penis is dying. I’m inside my wife’s vagina and I’m starting to go soft. No, no, no! This is NOT happening right now!
“Can’t we just have vanilla sex?” she asks as she leans back from me as far as she can while I’m still inside of her.
“Vanilla is white! WE’RE NOT WHITE! We’re…fuck! We’re Napoleon or whatever the fuck the three colored one is. We’re fucking Superman or the chocolate kind with peanut butter in it. I don’t even know what vanilla means! WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”
I know I’m yelling while my wife is on top of me, naked from the waist down but this is a complete and utter mind fuck right now.
“You’re not hard anymore,” she tells me as she looks down where we’re still, sort of, joined.
GAAAAAH I’m not listening! I’m not listening! I’m always hard! I’m hard when I’m grocery shopping in the frozen food section. Son of a motherless goat!
“Quick, call me a slut. HURRY!” I yell.
“I’m not calling you a slut. This was a bad idea,” she says as she lifts herself off of my wilted willy and crawls over to her side of the car, pulling her dress down as she goes.
NOOOOOOOO bring it back !
Jenny opens her car door and gets out, and I stare down at my limp dick in disgust.
“You are a disgrace to all of penis kind. That’s what you are. You couldn’t just keep it up for like five more minutes. Oh no, you had to be a quitter. QUITTERS NEVER WIN!”
I angrily shove my dick back in my pants and get out of the car and come face-to-face with Mr. Naked Guy from across the street.
“Hey there, buddy! I saw you guys pull in and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. My name’s Jackson,” he says with a smile as he sticks his hand out for me to shake.
The only good thing about this moment right now is the knowledge that the hand I’m touching this douchebag with is the one that was just on my dick.
“Hey, Jackson! How were those Snickerdoodles yesterday?” Jenny asks him as she comes around to my side of the car.
Who the what? Snickerdoodles?
“Oh my God, those were the best cookies I’ve ever had. Seriously, Jenny. You can bake a mean cookie,” Fuckson tells her with a big smile.
I know his name is Jackson. Shut up. Bitch ate my Snickerdoodles. He’s Fuckson from now on.
“Well, my girlfriend owns a bakery so I get all the inside tips,” she says with a giggle.
A FUCKING GIGGLE.
“Oh, before I forget, tell Veronica my niece left Barbie’s giant Malibu house at my place the other day, so I’ll bring it over on Wednesday for our play date.”
The fuck you say!
“Oh my God, she will absolutely freak out!” Jenny tells him.
Fucky McFuckson says his good-byes and jogs back over to his house, whistling the whole way.
Who the fuck whistles while he walks? The Seven Dwarfs, that’s who. Fuckson is a dwarf. He’s Fuck Head Dwarf; the sneaky bastard dwarf that tries to steal wives and children and makes them suddenly want vanilla instead of Mint Chocolate Chip.
“I’ll call Claire and let her know you’ll be over in a little bit to get the kids,” Jenny says as she turns and makes her way up the driveway to the house.
I stand there in the driveway long after she’s gone inside, staring over at Fuck Face’s house.
“As God is my witness, I shall never like vanilla again.”
Chapter 19 – Brazilians and FUPAs
I have a headache of mass promotions. Sticking around Veronica’s preschool the whole two hours she’s here probably isn’t the best idea. There’s a parent viewing area with a two-way mirror so we can see the kids but they can’t see us. Unfortunately, we can still hear all twenty-three kids screaming.
“You look like shit,” Liz says as she sits down next to me and hands me a cup of coffee.
Her three-year-old Molly goes to the same preschool as Veronica and usually we alternate who picks up and who takes the kids. Today is Liz’s day but I need a break from work and had decided to spend my free time watching Veronica learn and play.
“I feel like shit. I have the worst headache and Jackson had to cancel our play date yesterday so I didn’t get a nap,” I tell her.
Liz knows all about Jackson ever since she stopped by last week to drop off some hand-me-down clothes from her girls for Veronica. She had walked through the front door to find me asleep on the couch, Jackson giving Billy a bottle, and Veronica sitting next to him watching cartoons.
“I still can’t believe you have a manny,” she says with a laugh as I take a sip of my coffee.
“His name’s not Manny. It’s Jackson. Remember, I introduced you?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “A manny is a male version of a nanny. And as far as I know, they are young and hot and usually gay. But your manny definitely isn’t giving off the gay vibe,” she explains.
“He’s not a nanny or a manny or whatever. He’s just a friend helping me out.”
“A hot as fuck friend that I would bang seven weeks to Sunday if I wasn’t married. Oh, who am I kidding? If Jim was a complete loser of a husband and never helped me out around the house or with the kids, I’d still bang him,” she laughs.
I look at her in shock while she laughs and doesn’t even realize that she just summed up my life lately with that one statement.
“It’s a good thing you and Drew are back to fucking like twisted, demented rabbits, right?” she asks with a smile.
Her smile drops as soon as she sees the look on my face.
“Oh no, what the fuck? You guys just had date night four days ago. That was supposed to cure everything. I assumed you looked like death warmed over from having sex in a bounce house or some shit like that. What the hell happened?”
I can feel the tears stinging my eyes and my lip start to quiver, and I know I’m going to break down any second.
“Shit. Don’t cry. Not here. Come on, we’re going for a walk.”
Liz grabs my arm and pulls me up from my chair and drags me out into the school hallway.
We walk down past a few other classrooms and she stops and turns to face me. “Talk.”
I take a deep breath and let it all out in one enormous explosion of truth. Everything I’ve been feeling and have worried about and stressed over for the last few months. It all comes pouring out of me.
“I’m so tired, Liz. I’m physically tired and brainy tired and Drew is just no help at all, and I don’t understand how he can NOT see that I need help or ever even ask me if he can get up with Billy in the middle of the night or change a diaper or fix Veronica lunch or get her ready for school or help me with the other fucking million and one things I’ve got going on,” I complain, as I start pacing in front of Liz. I grab onto a lock of my hair and start twirling it around my finger, something I do when I’m nervous or freaked out. And I’m freaked out right now! I’m also not paying attention to just how fast I’m twirling and before I know it, my finger is stuck in a knot of hair right next to my head.
“My finger’s stuck. MY FINGER’S STUCK!” I yell in a panic.
Liz rushes up to me and puts her hand over my mouth so I stop yelling and tries yanking on my arm with her other hand.
“Mmmmmmmmmffffff!” I mumble-scream into her hand.
Liz huffs and shakes her head at me. “I am going to remove my hand from your mouth. Don’t you dare scream.”
I nod my head at her so she knows I’ll be good, and she slowly removes her hand from my mouth. Once she’s satisfied I’m not going to freak out every classroom in the hallway, she gets to work trying to free my finger from my hair, and I go right back into my complaining.