Troubles and Treats (20 page)

“Wait a minute, so you
still
haven’t talked to Drew?” Claire asks as we walk over to a rack of clearance clothes
and pick through them.

While the guys had gone
shopping for shoes, we decided to have a girl’s day and go to the mall.  Liz’s two
older girls are playing at a friend’s house today so she just has Molly with her.
After a lot of protesting from him, Claire had brought Gavin and Sophia was with Carter’s
parents. I have Veronica and Billy with me, so I'm pushing them in the double stroller.

“No, I haven’t talked to Drew yet.  I tried like a million times during Veronica’s
soccer game but he kept cutting me off.  It’s like he knew I wanted to talk about
something serious and wasn’t going for it,” I explain as I pulled a shirt off of the
rack and hold it up to me.

“Gavin, get up off of the floor,” Claire scolds.

I turn around where she’s looking and notice Gavin has removed an entire pile of folded
sweaters from one of the tables and is currently using them as a pillow while he sprawls
out on his stomach on the floor.

“Uuugghhhh, this is horseshit!” Gavin complains loudly.

“Horseshit!” Veronica and Molly shout at the same time before giggling.

“Gavin!” Claire yells angrily while Gavin lets out another groan and finally pulls
himself up from the ground.

“Okay, so he didn’t want to talk at the soccer game, what about after?” Liz asks as
she reaches in her purse for Molly’s sippy cup and hands it to her.

“He invited Jackson over and the two of them were down in the basement looking at
all of Drew’s old football trophies for like five hours.  And then he left for work
and you know how that goes.”

Seeing as how all of our husbands work for the same automotive plant and were on the
night shift together, the girls are well aware of how hard it can be to have any kind
of important conversation with them during the week unless you want to do it by phone,
which I definitely do not.  This is something that needs to be done in person.  I
finally know what I want and need from him, and I’m pretty sure I have the confidence
to actually tell him without screwing it up.  But only seeing him for about ten minutes
when I get home from work and then he leaves, makes it a little difficult.

“I’m still surprised he warmed up to Jackson so fast and actually went shopping with
them today.  I thought he would want to kill him when he found out what was going
on with you two,” Claire states as she points to the pile of sweaters still on the
floor without turning or saying a word when Gavin walks over to us.

“Oh my GOSH!  This is the worst day EVER!” Gavin complains before stomping dramatically
back to the sweaters to pick them up.

“There wasn’t anything going on with us!  Don’t say it like that,” I complain as I
shake my head, “No,” when Liz holds up an orange tank top and gives me a questioning
look.

“The guy is coming over to your house practically every day and spending time with
you and the kids, helping you out with laundry, the dishes, and rearranging furniture. 
He’s doing all of the things a husband should but without the extra benefits.”

I stare at her a minute wondering what benefits she’s talking about.

“He only helped me move the loveseat to the other side of the living room that one
time.  And he has a real job so he already gets health benefits.  Why would I give
him benefits for helping me out and being a good friend?  That’s just weird,” I tell
her as I pull another shirt from the rack and check the size.

“Sex, Jenny!  She’s talking about sex!” Liz says a little too loudly.

“SEX!  I WANT SEX!” Veronica yells from the stroller.

“No, no, no.  Don’t say that, honey.  It’s bad,” I tell her.

“You really haven’t gotten any in a while if you’re saying it’s bad,” Liz laughs from
the other side of the clothing rack.

“Oh shut up.  We had sex on our date night.  Well, kind of.  Okay, not really,” I
say with an embarrassed shrug.

“What do you mean, ‘not really?'  How do you ‘not really,
kind
of’ have sex?” Claire asks in confusion.

“Well, it started off really hot and awesome.  We were in the car in the driveway
and going at it.  But then he started talking all kinky, and I don’t know, it felt
weird.  Like, we’re older now and parents of two kids and maybe we shouldn’t be doing
it like that anymore.  I told him to just do it normally and without the crazy stuff
and it didn’t go over so well.”

Liz and Claire stand there staring at me, and I notice Gavin picking up a pair of
lacy thongs from one of the tables and putting them on his head like a mask.

“You told Drew to stop being kinky in the middle of sex?” Claire asks in shock.

“Please, don’t ask her anymore questions about that.  Words like ‘dirty whore’ and
‘slut’ will be thrown around and my brain can’t take that memory again,” Liz says
with a dramatic shiver.

“But, I mean…you guys are the epitome of kinky.  That’s like telling me I shouldn’t
bake anymore.  It’s unnatural.”

Is that true?  I mean, I couldn’t imagine Claire never baking again.  It’s her life
and part of who she is.  Is kinky sex part of who Drew and I are?  If we don’t have
it, are we not being who we really are?

“Tell me this, did it feel normal to you trying to have plain, old regular sex?  Did
it make you happy?” Claire asks.

“No, not at all.  It made me sad.  But it just felt like it was something I should
do and ever since then, Drew hasn’t even
tried
to have sex with me again.  I think I broke his penis,” I whisper.

“No one thinks my jokes are funny,” Gavin complains, walking over to us with the red,
lacy thongs still on his head, the front of the thongs covering his eyes and nose.

“Uhhhhh, why is that on your head?” Claire asks, pulling her cell phone out of her
purse and trying to stifle her laugh.

“It’s my mask.  It’s my joke telling mask and no one thinks I’m funny,” he complains
again.

“Oh, I think you’re HILARIOUS!” Liz says, not even bothering to hide her laughter. 
“Tell me your joke.”

Gavin turns to face her.  “Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Liz asks, giggling with each word.

I hear Claire’s camera phone click next to me as she takes a picture.

“Y,” Gavin states.

“Y who?”

“Y YOU SUCK!” Gavin shouts, laughing at his own joke.

“Yeah, your joke – not funny.  But you wearing women’s underwear on your head?  Priceless. 
Make sure you send that picture to me. It’s going on my fridge,” Liz tells Claire.

“You guys are all a bunch of donkey crap bags,” Gavin complains as he walks away from
our laughter.

“Okay, anyway, back to our discussion.  Why would you think you broke Drew’s penis? 
Just because you told him you didn’t want to have wild and crazy sex?” Claire asks.

“Well, he was kind of inside me when I said it.  And it made him soft.  Like, really
quickly.  It felt like I shoved a balloon inside me and then popped it with a pin. 
That can’t be good.”

“This analogy of his penis and your vagina is really not something I need to be picturing
in my head right now,” Liz complains.

“Eeew, Drew's penis and my vagina do NOT have analogy.  That’s just gross.  I have
never had a green, slimy vagina, and do you think I would honestly let Drew’s penis
anywhere near my cooter if it looked like that?” I complain.

“Oh for the love of God, focus, Jenny!” Claire says as we make our way up to the cashier. 
“Making a guy go soft doesn’t break his penis.  You shocked the horny right out of
him.  Which as far as I know, is a first for Drew.  He’s probably freaked out and
thinks you’ve changed and doesn’t know how to deal with it. That’s why he hasn’t tried
to initiate anything since then.”

I sigh as I pile my merchandise onto the counter.

Is Claire right?  Does Drew think I’ve changed and doesn’t know how to act around
me anymore?

“I feel like we’ve grown so far apart and I hate it.  It’s like we don’t even know
each other.  It’s the worse feeling in the world.”

Claire pats my back as she finishes placing her items on the counter next to mine.

“You guys absolutely still know each other.  Even though it doesn’t feel like it,
he’s still your best friend and the one person who knows everything about you.  It’s
a rough patch.  Couples have them and if they are strong enough, they work through
them.  You guys are strong enough.  You just have to get on the same page.”

Gavin bounces past us with an umbrella in one hand, swinging it through the air and
smacking it into hanging racks of clothes, knocking some to the ground.  Now he has
a blue bra strapped to the top of his head like the guys in the movie ‘
Weird Science’.

“Oh my God, I just had the best idea ever!” Liz shouts as she yanks the umbrella out
of Gavin’s hand and pulls the bra off of his head while Gavin lets out a groan of
protest.

“Seriously, dude.  I’m saving your life right now.  Your mom already has a picture
of you with women’s underwear on your head.  Do you really want to try and get laid
in high school when there’s a picture of you with a bra on your head too?  I just
saved your social life.  Tell Auntie Liz thank you,” she tells him as she tosses the
bra onto a table and leans the umbrella against another.

“I know what getting laid means.  Dad told me and it’s gross.  I’m never doing that,”
Gavin complains.

“Wait, let me get my video camera out,” Claire states as she digs in her purse again
for her cell phone.  “Say that again, slowly.”

“Mommy, I wanna laid!” Veronica shouts from the stroller.

“Me too!  I wanna laid!  I wanna strawberry laid!” Molly screams in delight.

“This is disturbing, and yet funny at the same time,” Liz states.  “Anyway, back to
my
fantastic
idea!”

Claire and I finish paying our bills and attempt to quiet the girls screaming about
wanting laid, using bribery of candy as a last resort.

“Okay, what’s this great idea,” Claire asks as we make our way out of the store.

“Well, you feel like you and Drew have grown apart and don’t really know each other
anymore, correct?” she asks me.

“Yeah,” I say sadly.

“Do you guys remember that old game show 'The Newlywed Game' from like the seventies?”

Claire nods and gets a huge smile on her face.  “Oh my gosh, Liz, you are a genius! 
That is the best idea ever.”

I look at them questioningly as we walk towards the food court.

“I don’t understand.  We’re not newlyweds.  How is this going to help us?  Do we have
to get married again or something?  I don’t know if I’ll be able to fit into my wedding
outfit again if that’s the case.”

“Your wedding outfit was a white tube top, a pair of white boy shorts and white thigh-high
stockings.  I’m pretty sure anyone could fit into your wedding outfit,” Liz states
as we find a table and try to figure out what the kids want for lunch.  “No, there
is no remarrying that needs to happen.  'The Newlywed Game' is answering questions
about yourself and seeing if your partner gets them right.  It’s a great way to see
how compatible two people are.”

This sounds scary.  Drew and I always used to know each other well but not lately. 
What if we completely blow this game and it only makes things worse between us?

“I don’t know guys.  What if he gets every single question wrong?  That’s just going
to depress me more,” I tell them.

“Trust me, this will work.  You will see once and for all that you and Drew have not
grown apart as much as you think,” Liz tells me.

“This is going to be so fun!  I’m officially scheduling a game night for two weeks
from now,” Claire announces.

“Clear your schedules and get sitters.  This is an ‘adult only’ night,” Liz adds.

We get lunch for ourselves and the kids and discuss how the game will work while we
eat.  I don’t know whether I’m nervous or excited.  I just hope this whole thing doesn’t
throw up in my face.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Jim states nervously.

“Don’t be a pussy.  This is the best idea ever.  If the girls can do it and live through
it, so can we.  Do you really want your wife to go around telling people she did this
before you?  Get your balls out of her purse and man up,” I tell Jim.

Liz is at a meeting with her buyer and left Jim in charge of the store for a few hours
before we have to be at work.  Not a very wise decision on her part considering the
last time she left Jim alone at the store, we rearranged her front window display
with naked female
mannequins
having an orgy.  So really, whatever happens here this evening is Liz’s fault for
trusting Jim to behave.

Carter had mentioned the other night how he’s never been maced and we found out that
none of us had.  It’s embarrassing that all of our wives have been through something
horrific like that and we haven’t.  So, I devised a plan.  An evil, genius plan.

“Alright, there’s no one back in the porn room.  Who’s going to do the honors?” Carter
asks as he emerges from the hallway next to the counter.

Two years ago, Liz installed a porno room in her store.  The shelves are lined with
every porno movie known to man.  To avoid people stealing them and to stop any embarrassment
of some poor, lonely librarian having to carry the movie box out in front of other
people so everyone in the store knows she likes midget donkey sex, the DVD cases are
empty and each one is assigned a three-digit number.  If anyone wants to buy one,
they just have to come up to the front counter and tell the cashier what number they
want.  Instead of saying, “I’d like to buy ‘Dickman and Throbbinhood’,” they can just
say, “Could I get number four-twenty-three, please?”

Since neither Carter nor Jim want to actually get maced in the face, we decide to
spray some mace in the small porno room where it will be easily contained.  Then,
we can just walk in there and see how we’re affected.  We never really have to tell
anyone
how
we were maced; we can just tell people from now on that we have “experience” with
being maced.  It’s kind of perfect if I do say so myself.

It’s sad, really, that I can’t find a good macing shirt for the occasion.  Instead,
I had to settle for my backup for emergency situations: I’m full of awesome.

“Shouldn’t we wait until the store closes?” Jim asks, looking nervously at the door.

“Your wife will be back before the store closes.  We need to do this shit now,” I
tell him, grabbing the industrial size can of mace from under the counter.  “The girls
were out of commission for what, twenty minutes or so?  And they were sprayed directly
in the eyes.  Since we’re just going to be standing in a room where it’s lingering
in the air, we’re probably only going to get a small percentage of what they got. 
We’ll be fine.  Even if
a customer does come in
, they'll have no idea what’s going on.”

Jim taps his fingers on the counter, looks over at the door again, and then down at
his watch.  “Okay, fine.  Let’s hurry up and get this over with in case Liz comes
back early.”

Carter and I let out a victory yell, and I hand him the can to let him do the spraying.

“Go ahead man, just open the door a crack, spray as much as you can, and  shut it
really quickly,” I explain.

Carter takes the can, gives me a salute, and turns and jogs down the hallway.

As soon as he leaves, the bell above the door rings and Jim and I turn around and
see three women walk in the door.

“Shit, customers.  What the fuck do we do?” Jim whispers frantically.

“Relax.  It’s contained in the back room.  We just wait on them like normal and then
go back there.  If the mace all faded away, Carter can just spray it again,” I tell
him.

The three women are off in a far corner giggling over something on one of the shelves
so I wander over to where they are and see if they need any assistance.

“Hello there, ladies.  What can I help you with this evening?”

They all start giggling again and each one turns bright red when they try and look
me in the eyes.

“Um, well, my friend Jamie here has never been to a sex toy store before.  So, what
would you recommend for her first toy?” one of the women asks.

Normally, I enjoy helping out the customers in Liz’s store.  I’m kind of a genius
when it comes to all of the things in here but as soon as I start to impart my wisdom
on them, my nose starts to tickle and I feel a sneeze coming on.

I let out four rapid sneezes right in a row and apologize to the ladies, asking them
to follow me to another display so I can show them a few things for beginners.

As I’m holding up a bullet with a cock ring attachment, I feel my eyes start to itch
and I’m wondering if I’m suddenly getting allergies or something.  The three girls
are so embarrassed they are barely even listening to what I’m saying, and I feel like
my sex intelligence is wasted on them.  I’m holding the bullet and I’m rubbing my
eyes furiously now since they won’t stop itching.

“Oh my God, my eyes are so itchy,” one of the women complain.

From behind me, I hear hacking coughs and I turn to see what’s going on with Jim and
Carter but my eyes are watering so bad I can barely see them.

Next to me, two of the women start coughing and complaining that their throats itch.

What the fuck is going on?!  Is this the fucking zombie apocalypse?  Are we all infected
with something that’s going to make us foam at the mouth and eat people’s faces??!

“Fuck!  Did you guys eat bath salts tonight?  Did you breathe bath salts on me or
something?” I ask the women as I too start coughing and tears run down my cheeks.

My eyes are starting to burn and itch at the same time, and I feel like I can’t cough
hard enough or long enough to stop my throat from itching.

“Drew!” Jim yells between hacking coughs from the counter.

I drop the bullet and cock ring on the floor and tell the women not to move which
is pointless because two of them are now sitting on the floor clawing at their eyes
while the other one is leaning against a display case sneezing over and over.

I scramble back to the counter as best I can since my eyes are watering so badly that
everything is blurry.  My coughing gets worse the closer I get to Jim and Carter,
and I see they are having the same problems I am.  Carter is sitting on the floor
behind the counter digging his fists in his eyes while he sneezes and Jim is dry heaving
in between coughs.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Jim yells as I stumble behind the counter and sneeze
six times in a row.

“It’s the fucking zombie virus!  Son of a bitch, I told you this day was coming! 
No one believed me and you all laughed.  Well, who the fuck is laughing now?!  If
I go first, you kill me before I eat ANYONE’S face off, do you hear me?” I scream
at Jim.

A hand clamps around my ankle, and I scream like a girl and jump up onto the counter. 
I look down and see Carter staring up at me with a scared look on his face.

“I don’t want to eat people either!  Don’t let me eat people!  They say it tastes
like chicken but I don’t believe them.  PEOPLE TASTE LIKE PEOPLE NOT CHICKEN!”

I nod my head, too busy coughing and wiping the tears out of my eyes to do much else. 
I glance behind me to check on the three women and see them crawling on all fours
to get to the front door.

“NOOOOOOO!  YOU CAN’T LEAVE!  THE ZOMBIES!” I scream.

They can’t go outside.  The streets are probably overrun with creepy bloody people
chewing on arms and toes.

The women scream at the top of their lungs and are half crawling, half running as
they try to get up off of the floor.  They are coughing and crying and screaming and
shoving displays and each other out of their way to get to the door.  They don’t listen
to my shouts of warning at all, and before I know it, they are out the door and lost
to the zombies.

“It’s so sad.  They were so pretty.  Now we won’t even be able to recognize them the
next time we see them,” Jim says sadly as I continue to cough.

“I need to call Jenny and tell her I love her,” I say between sneezes as I reach for
the phone on the counter.

I dial our home number and she answers on the first ring but she sounds funny.

“Mmmmmm, mmmmfffuh”

Oh my god, has she been turned already?!

“NOOOOO!  Jenny!  Baby!  Did they get to you already?  Are you already a zombie? 
Oh my God!” I scream into the phone.

“What?  Jenny’s a zombie?” Jim asks from behind me before dissolving into another
coughing fit.  “Shit!  I need to call Liz.”

I hear a cough on the other end of the phone and I know that if Jenny isn’t a zombie
yet, she will be soon.

“Fight the virus, baby, FIGHT IT!” I scream.

“Drew?  What the hell are you talking about?  I was taking a nap.  What time is it?”
she asks.

“IT’S ZOMBIE TIME!  Lock the doors, baby.  Don’t let them eat your face!” I tell her.

“MY FACE IS BURNING!” Carter yells from the floor as he scratches his cheeks.

“We need an antidote!  What the fuck is an antidote for zombies?” I yell to Jim.

“What the hell does your Aunt Dottie have to do with zombies?” Jenny asks through
the phone line.  “Did you eat pot cookies again?  You know what those do to you.”

A flash of blue and red lights catches my attention, and I turn around and look out
the front window.

“It’s the cops.  They’ve come to save us,” I say.

“Or they’re really zombie cops and they’ve come to eat our legs,” Jim adds.

~

“Yes, officer.  I’ll make sure they are never left unsupervised again,” Liz tells
the cop as he gets in his cruiser and then takes off.

Jim, Carter, and I are all sitting on the curb outside of the store with wet towels
pressed to our eyes and bottles of water clutched in our hands.

Even though we can’t see right now, we can tell that Liz is looking at each one of
us like she wants to murder us.

“What in the fucking hell were you guys thinking?” she asks.

I can hear her shoes tapping on the concrete right in front of us, and I close my
legs to protect my nuts, just in case.

“You three morons thought you would spray mace in the porn room because it was a closed
room.  And yet somehow, during the planning of this stellar idea, you failed to remember
this little thing called a VENTILATION SYSTEM.  And you know, since it’s
winter
and all, the
heat
is on, pushing air and MACE from the fucking VENTILATION SYSTEM out into the entire
store,” Liz explains angrily.

I remove the wet towel from my eyes and chance a look at her.

“Yeah, we didn’t really think that part through,” I admit.

“Oh gee, you think?  Those three women went running down the street screaming about
crazy men and flesh eating zombies that had taken over my store.  And Jenny called
me in a panic, freaking out because someone knocked on her door, and she thought zombies
were going to break into the house to eat your kids.  She threw a blender, the toaster,
and a lamp at the door before I could convince her that it was my mother dropping
off a present for Billy,” Liz tells me.

“Which lamp?  It wasn’t my Ohio State one, was it?” I ask in horror.

“That is so not the fucking point, Drew!”

I look over at Carter and Jim and realize they are much smarter than I am.  They are
both sitting with their heads down, not making eye contact.

“You three are in time-out!  No playing together for the rest of the week!” Liz yells
before stomping past us and into the store.

“Yes ma’am,” we all mumble.

After we hear the door close, we all finally look at each other.

“Next time we’re allowed to play together, we are so coming up with a zombie antidote,”
Jim states.