Read Online Single Player: Humor, Love, Breast Cancer and a Gaming Girl... by Jamie Nicole - Free Book Online Page B

days since he’s had a walk on account of my foot here and I have to have him on his leash; otherwise he’s running out this door for a chance at peedom.” I pause to catch my breath and see the poor guy looks really concerned about my well being at the moment, as he should be. 
    “Obviously I can’t go chasing him around the neighborhood in my current state (I cleverly put on an old walking cast that I had stored in my closet, and so far he’s buying my charade). Poor guy needs a walk but I just can’t manage. He’s been using that itty-bitty back yard for the last three days. Can you imagine?” This is working. I can see his wheels turning, so to add some emotional turmoil to my story I talk in my best puppy voice directly to Master’s sad face (who knew he was such a great actor?  Go Master!). 
    “This poor guy just wants to go potty outside. Yes he does. You’re such a good boy. Mommy’s so, so sorry she’s such a klutz. I hope that one day you can forgive me buddy.” After that little show, I don’t even have to ask him. 
    The pizza guy bestows pity on us both and decidedly takes the leash from my hand, wraps it around his own like he’s done this before and says, “I have a lab myself and he’d die if he couldn’t get a walk. Let me,” he’s already through the living room and to the front door when I ask again to show how considerate I am.
    “Are you sure? I mean… thanks. Gosh, that’d be swell.”  Gosh? Swell? What am I? A 1950’s sitcom character? Then before he gets suspicious of my weird behavior I slap a twenty into his palm to cover both the pizza and the tip and move out of his way.
    He looks at me a little funny (again, as he should) but covers with a sincere smile and slips out of the house with one very excited dog who’s ready to do his business out in the freedom of the great beyond. He’s off to smell the pee-mail from around the neighborhood. What a lucky guy. 
    Since I know Master Chief loves a good dance party I decide to put on some of his favorite music, (again, the doggy telepathy). I search through my playlist titled ‘awesome jams’ and come across the one he’s been most excited by lately. Let the Groove Get In by Justin Timberlake floats out through my awesome surround sound and this party just officially got started. The thought has occurred to me more than once that if I could just go through life dancing all the time maybe I’d be able to go outside again.  Apparently, that is frowned upon by society as a whole because Ashton says if I do that, people will think I’m losing it. Joke’s on him, though. That’s already happening.  Or wait!  Is the joke on me?
    I’m fully engrossed in my jam, trying to moonwalk (here I’d like you to please put the emphasis on trying) when the front door crashes open. Embarrassed that I’ve been caught in my most vulnerable dance move, I look up to apologize to the poor pizza guy and instead see the one person I’ve needed to see for the past couple of days standing there looking at me wearing his trademarked, ridiculously cute smirk that he knows I love on his pretty little over-sexed face. We start talking at the same time.
    “Hi you. Saw my buddy here with the pizza guy and,” he stammers holding up Master’s leash.
    While I lead with, “I want your sex.” Yep, I’m an idiot, but seriously, thanks for the inspiration George Michael.
    His face freezes in shock while his lips look like they’re trying - and failing - to make words. His mouth keeps opening and closing continually, but there’s nothing but air making its way out. And now on top of the weird fish face he’s got going on, his eyes are blinking unnaturally fast. I’m starting to think that maybe he was chewing gum and now he’s choking on it so I say, “Are you choking?” while giving him the universal sign for choking with my hands crossed at my throat. Still…nothing! Oh My GOD!  HE’S CHOKING!
    I run over, circle my small arms around