What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Fifty Shades Effed - Chapter Three

On my way home, Bea's assistant, Eric, calls to invite me to lunch. He refuses to tell me his motive over the phone. Maybe I can scarf more of those little yellow pills to help keep up with my sexual dynamo.

I get a few more blog entries done and meet Eric at the San Diego County Fair. Hmm, beer battered chocolate covered bacon for lunch? Sure, why not? You only die once. I hope he's not a fan of rides, as my stomach has never appreciated them.

"Big E, what's happening?"
"Good to see you, Mormon," he greets while giving me the handshake, shoulder-bump man-hug. "Let's hit the food court. I'm starving."
"Me too."
"So, I wasn't sure if Bea told you, but she has asked me to walk her down the aisle Saturday, and I wanted to make sure you're cool with that."
"Dude, of course I am. You know, she rarely speaks about her parents."
"She was twelve when they had the accident. Her grandmother and various nannies raised her."
"Well, she turned out perfectly crazy and I'm absolutely crazy about her. I just wish there were some way to win over Grandma and make Chris disappear."
"I'm sure it will work out. Love conquers all, Mormon. Ooh, and speaking of love," Eric beams as a handsome fellow approaches, "here comes my man, Neil."

We greet and stroll around the Fair, sampling the artery cloggery that abounds.

"So, gentlemen, I'd like to enlist your help in a stunt I'm planning. Bea is having a girls' night with her friends on Thursday. I want to surprise them with something. Should I hire a male stripper?"
"Wait. Wasn't she on stage for your party?"
"Indeed she was."
"Then you must return the favor," Neil adds.
Ha! No fucking way.
"Yes, dress up in a police uniform and jump out of a cake," Eric teases.
"Right."
"I'm serious. It would be hysterical."
"It would be traumatizing. I'm fifty. I eat cake."
"Oh my god, I still have that uniform from the Pride Parade. It comes with handcuffs too," Neil offers.
"Perfect," Eric cheers, "and you two are similar size. You must, Mormon. Come on. We'll both be there to provide oral, I mean moral support."
"Seriously?"
"Please," they chime, in stereo.
"Fine. Fuck it. I'll chug half a bottle of tequila and do it."
"I'll arrange for the cake and bring Neil's costume to work with me tomorrow," Eric insists.
"Can't believe I'm going to do this. Will Grandma be there?"
"No, Thursday is bingo night at the The Rock Church. She'd never miss that."
"Phew. Now I need a favor from you, Eric."
"Anything."
"Got any more of those pain-thrillers Bea borrowed from you?"
"Indeed I do," Eric agrees.
"Might I have a handful for the honeymoon? I'm probably going to need all the help I can get."
"Of course."

The three of us enjoy the sights, then go our separate ways. I brainstorm ideas to make my emergence from pastry more amusing. This calls for restraints, a whip, and the biggest, blackest strap-on I can find. Hustler Store, here I come.

No comments:

Post a Comment