I’m at the airport with Casey and her parents eating chicken strips in a Chili’s Too. I’ve had to shit since I woke up, but Casey told me there wasn’t enough time to drop a deuce because her parents had to be at the airport. Casey’s mom says, “I’ll be out here again next weekend to help you start planning for the big day.”
I wish I would have taken that shit.
Casey says, “Are you coming back, Daddy?”
He says, “Not if you want me to pay for it. I have to work.”
Casey’s mom says, “So it’ll just be me. And I’ll stay as long as it takes to get everything together.”
I don’t particularly dislike Casey’s mom, but the prospect of her staying “as long as it takes to get everything together” makes the impending shit lurch in my intestines and want to come out.
Casey tries to coax the turd out a little more by saying, “Mom, if you don’t want to hassle with a hotel while you’re out here, you can always just stay with me.”
I immediately picture Casey refusing to suck my cock or fuck me because her mom’s in her apartment. I chew my chicken strip hard enough to grind my teeth down to nubs.
Casey’s dad says, “That wouldn’t be a bad idea except for your mom’s back. You know she wouldn’t be able to sleep on your futon.”
Casey saves the day with, “Well, I could sleep on it while you’re out here and you could have the bed.”
My intestines are at full boil. I say, “Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.”
As I leave the table kind of abruptly I can tell Casey’s mom is somehow offended that I’m exiting while they talk about obviously important matters. When I stand up a silent fart leaks out and I try to point my ass slightly in the direction of Casey’s mom so there’s a possibility that she’ll be blamed for it.
After I clean off the toilet seat in the Chili’s Too bathroom and apply three toilet seat covers, I rip my pants down and open the flood-gates as a torrent of liquid shit flies out of my ass in a way that makes me think I might have possibly shit some vital organ into the water below. And then I feel fine.
I sit on the crapper for another five or six minutes before wiping, just feeling lighter, better. When I come back out, all of our food has already been cleared away and Casey’s dad is signing his credit card bill. I thank him for lunch in a mandatory attempt at politeness.
We walk with her parents to the security check. Her mom hugs me and her dad shakes my hand just before they walk through the metal detectors and disappear around a corner to go to their flight.
As I drive back to Casey’s place with her in the passenger seat, I reach over and start unbuttoning her pants with one hand, trying to get her in the mood so once we do get to her apartment we can get right to fucking. As I get to the second button she stops me and holds my hand.
We drive down the road in complete silence for a few miles listening to 50 Cent. As soon as he tells us that he’s into having sex, he ain’t into making love, Casey turns the volume down and begins telling me the following information: “I love you so much. We’re going to have the best life together. I can’t wait.” Every word she says makes me feel a little more like faking a stroke and pretending to lose all memory of who I was, but it’s not until she looks me in the eye and says in all seriousness, “You’re my soul mate,” that I realize I am not going to marry her.