The Best Punch I Ever Threw: Part 6

Posted: March 8, 2011 in Nonfiction

I tucked John into my car’s backseat. It wasn’t an easy task. He was like pushing a parade balloon full of butter. Shauna got in the back, and I rode shotgun. Mike was driving. As we drove Shauna started bad mouthing her husband.

I hate when people rag on their spouses to strangers. It’s a gross habit, and it’s a passive aggressive way to flirt. When people bitch about their relationship, they’re saying they’re looking for a new one, or at least a reprieve from the old one. Mike and I tried to steer the conversation towards anything else, but it was tough. Everything had to do with how her husband was never around or wasn’t nice to her:

“We’re going to have leave early in the morning,” Mike said. “We’ve got a long trip back.” 

“My husband’s always gone on long trips. And he leaves during the weekends with his buddies too. He’s never here on weekends…” 

“That crowd sure hated my Cat Bit tonight,” I tried saying. Throwing any topic out there to see if it would stick.

“My husband doesn’t like cats, he’s an ass. He never…”

“It sure gets dark here early,” I interrupted. Thinking maybe talking about the town would work.

“It DOES get dark here early” … She said… (Success!) …  “and I want to cheat on my husband.”

(Damn it.)

We got to her place and I got out to help pull John from the car. I’ll give him this, the old guy was a wreck, but he didn’t throw-up. And if you asked him questions he could answer them, it just took him a long time to figure them out. It’s like his body was holding onto his booze and his information as long as it could.

John had gotten his feet stuck under the seat. And I couldn’t get him out. 

“What’s going on” I said, as I tugged at him. He didn’t say anything so I pulled harder. After several solid tugs John said, “my feet’s stuck.” He looked down at them but couldn’t do anything. He just stared at them angrily, like it was their fault.

I had jerked at him hard, hard enough to hurt him. “Holy shit are you alright?” I asked, mostly to myself, as I tried to slide his feet out from under the seat, but couldn’t. I went around the car and tried to pull him out from the other side, hoping a better angle would help.

“Yep,” He answered my question about being alright.

“Can you move your feet at all John, or can you slide your shoes off?” I asked as I pushed against the car for better leverage. I jerked again and nothing happened. I tried to move him into position like a fat angry tetris piece. I went back around to the other side and put my arms under his armpits. I squatted real low and got a good grip. I coun’t to three and came up up witheverything I had like I was doing a clean-and-jerk. John came bursting out of the car like a popped zit. His shoes came following him. I fell on my ass and he spilled over me like a big doughy blanket,

“Yep,” he said. “I can get my shoe off.”

It was bitterly cold out, and normally I would care about somebody being barefoot, but I’d had enough of John. I pushed him off of me and got up. Then I pulled him behind me and let his feet drag in the snow. Shauna grabbed his shoes and ran in front of me to get the door. Everything was covered in ice. When I got him to the couple of stairs in front of her house I tried to leave.

“I can’t, I can’t get him in here,” Shauna said. 

I let out a sigh and tried to push the man mass up the steps and through the door.

We got into the house and the lady’s kids were sleeping on the couch. Two little girls who had fallen asleep watching TV. I stood in the doorway with John leaning against me. Shauna pushed away Dorito bags and half eaten pop-tarts. I pushed John into a chair.

“Could you help me with these kids?” She asked.

It felt creepy, and I didn’t want to. I like kids, and I’m comfortable around them, but these were little girls in pajamas. I’m a big guy that sometimes wears a Hulk Hogan mustache. I don’t think I should be picking up any stranger’s daughters.

It would be different if I knew these kids, but I didn’t. Waking up in the arms of a 250 lbs stranger can’t be good for anybody… maybe Paris Hilton… maybe she could wake up in that scenario and be like, “Oh, thank god there’s only one of you.”

Still, I picked up the older girl and followed Shauna to the kids’ room. She tucked in one and then the other. Neither really woke up, and I was very much relieved. 

I walked back to the Living Room, said good night and went to the door.

She came up and gave me a hug, where she pressed up against me all over. She played with my hair a little bit and thanked me for being so great. I smiled a smile that was quickly fading from flattered to angry.

For the Record. I would have fucked her. She was cute enough. She had a little bit of mom-pudge around the middle, but she wasn’t ugly. I’ve definitely done worse, and I’d be lying if I said I probably won’t do worse again in the future. But having a dude help carry your kids to bed might be the least successful pick-up maneuver I’ve ever heard of.

I opened the door ready to go.

“I’ve got to get my purse.” she said, and hustled outside. She crawled into the passenger seat next to Mike. Few things will deflate an ego like watching the girl who just hit on you literally stop, pivot, and sprint to the next dude to flirt with. I was mad. He didn’t even have lug the drunk inside.

She made her push to bone Mike, but he rejected it too. I had no idea what to do while she sat in the car. I turned around and smoked a cigarette. I would have screwed around on my cell phone, but we hadn’t gotten reception for the last hundred miles of our trip. So I just sat there, and hoped Mike wasn’t fucking in my car.

She got out and went back to the house defeated.

After she’d shut the door, I got in the car.

“So… That happened” Mike said kind of laughing.

“Yep.” I answered not nearly as amused.

“That’s about the most awkward situation I’ve ever been in.” He added chuckling.

“Really,” I said….”Was that uncomfortable for you Mike,”… “Because I had to tuck her kids in.”

Mike’s sense of humor blew up and littered the front of the car with brain matter and giggles. He pulled out of the driveway howling.

“Hurry up.” I said. I wanted to get back to anywhere.

“Why” Mike asked grinning.  “Don’t you want to stick around a while longer, maybe make some s’mores?” he laughed and grinned.

I started laughing too, just a little bit. It was funny. “Just, get back to the hotel,” I said, “Let’s hurry up and get murdered.”

Mike had forgotten about the hotel and how scary it was, and the memory hit like a class bell telling him he was late.

“Oh yeah…”  He said sobering up quickly. “maybe we should have stuck around and fucked that waitress.”

I’m wrapping up here, and tomorrow I might wrap up this whole story, but it’ll probably take two more posts. I forget just how much actually went on that night. I hope you’ll keep up, because when shit goes down next post. It goes down pretty hard.
 
 
 
 

 

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