colored liquid for me.
“What is this?” I ask her.
“It’s Everclear with a splash of cherry juice,” she explains before rushing off to
another table.
“Ooooh, Everclear. That sounds pretty,” I say before downing the shot.
I immediately start coughing and choking, fanning my mouth with my hand.
“IT BURNS! OH MY GOD IT BURNS!” I try to yell with a raspy voice that feels like
it’s on fire.
“Here, drink this,” Claire tells me as she slides her beer across the table towards
me.
I drink the entire thing in three big gulps and smack the glass back down to the table.
“Well, I do believe that is plenty of liquid courage for the evening,” Liz says with
a laugh.
Chapter 7 – Fake it Till You Make it
“Holy fucking Wheat Thins. What did you feed this kid?” Jim asks as he brings Billy
over to me, holding him at arm’s length with a look of disgust on his face. “It smells
like he ate a dead dog covered in vomit and yogurt and then shit it out.”
He puts Billy in my lap and as soon as I get a whiff, I throw up in my mouth a little
and have to hold my breath.
“Jenny stopped breast feeding last week and put him on formula and cereal. Maybe
that’s it.”
Carter shakes his head. “That is not what formula and cereal smell like. That smells
like ball sweat covered in Swiss cheese.”
I place Billy on the floor at my feet and step away from him so I can take a breath.
“Jesus, that is really bad. How is he smiling? Can’t he smell himself? If I took
a dump that smelled that bad I wouldn’t be smiling,” I say.
“Well, at least whatever that was isn’t inside of him anymore. Imagine the havoc
it was wreaking on his stomach. He’s probably like, ‘Thank fucking God that shit
is out of me.' Literally,” Jim says as he plugs his nose and takes a few giant steps
backwards.
All of a sudden, the sound of five little girls screaming bloody murder comes from
the toy room at the back of the house, and ten-year-old Gavin comes running into the
living room with a grin on his face.
“What did you do?” Carter asks him as I dig through the diaper bag for a gas mask
and latex gloves.
“Nothing,” Gavin replies as he flops down on the couch. “Who farted? It stinks in
here.”
We all point to the baby. There is still screaming and crying coming from the toy
room, but at this point we’re all more concerned with the fact that the smell coming
from my son might start peeling the paint off of the walls.
Veronica comes charging into the living room holding a headless, naked Barbie in her
hand. Behind her is Carter’s six-year-old Sophia and Jim’s three daughters, Charlotte who is also six, Ava who is five, and Molly
who is three. All have tear-stained cheeks and a multitude of naked, headless Barbies
in their hands.
“GAVIN TOOK THE CLOTHES OFF OF ALL OF OUR DOLLS AND POPPED THEIR HEADS OFF!” Charlotte
screeches.
“My dolly has no head!” Ava wails.
“He dr ew boobies on my Barbie!” Sophia cries as she waves the torso of her inked Barbie in front of our faces.
“Hey, those look pretty good. Nice nipple placement,” I tell him.
“Why does this one have a big red dot in the middle of its chest and a shaved head,”
Jim asks as he grabs the only one with its head still intact that three-year-old Molly
is cradling to her.
“She’s got a third nipple because she was abducted by aliens and they experimented
on her. The other Barbies shunned her and cut off all of her hair when she went to
sleep,” Gavin explains.
The wails from the five girls grow louder, and we all wince at the sounds they are
producing.
“Oh my God, make it stop!” Carter complains.
“GIRLS! Calm down!” Jim yells in an effort to be heard. Living in a house with three
girls and a wife, he is quite the expert at the trials and tribulations of females.
But even he looks shocked at the amount of
“What is this?” I ask her.
“It’s Everclear with a splash of cherry juice,” she explains before rushing off to
another table.
“Ooooh, Everclear. That sounds pretty,” I say before downing the shot.
I immediately start coughing and choking, fanning my mouth with my hand.
“IT BURNS! OH MY GOD IT BURNS!” I try to yell with a raspy voice that feels like
it’s on fire.
“Here, drink this,” Claire tells me as she slides her beer across the table towards
me.
I drink the entire thing in three big gulps and smack the glass back down to the table.
“Well, I do believe that is plenty of liquid courage for the evening,” Liz says with
a laugh.
Chapter 7 – Fake it Till You Make it
“Holy fucking Wheat Thins. What did you feed this kid?” Jim asks as he brings Billy
over to me, holding him at arm’s length with a look of disgust on his face. “It smells
like he ate a dead dog covered in vomit and yogurt and then shit it out.”
He puts Billy in my lap and as soon as I get a whiff, I throw up in my mouth a little
and have to hold my breath.
“Jenny stopped breast feeding last week and put him on formula and cereal. Maybe
that’s it.”
Carter shakes his head. “That is not what formula and cereal smell like. That smells
like ball sweat covered in Swiss cheese.”
I place Billy on the floor at my feet and step away from him so I can take a breath.
“Jesus, that is really bad. How is he smiling? Can’t he smell himself? If I took
a dump that smelled that bad I wouldn’t be smiling,” I say.
“Well, at least whatever that was isn’t inside of him anymore. Imagine the havoc
it was wreaking on his stomach. He’s probably like, ‘Thank fucking God that shit
is out of me.' Literally,” Jim says as he plugs his nose and takes a few giant steps
backwards.
All of a sudden, the sound of five little girls screaming bloody murder comes from
the toy room at the back of the house, and ten-year-old Gavin comes running into the
living room with a grin on his face.
“What did you do?” Carter asks him as I dig through the diaper bag for a gas mask
and latex gloves.
“Nothing,” Gavin replies as he flops down on the couch. “Who farted? It stinks in
here.”
We all point to the baby. There is still screaming and crying coming from the toy
room, but at this point we’re all more concerned with the fact that the smell coming
from my son might start peeling the paint off of the walls.
Veronica comes charging into the living room holding a headless, naked Barbie in her
hand. Behind her is Carter’s six-year-old Sophia and Jim’s three daughters, Charlotte who is also six, Ava who is five, and Molly
who is three. All have tear-stained cheeks and a multitude of naked, headless Barbies
in their hands.
“GAVIN TOOK THE CLOTHES OFF OF ALL OF OUR DOLLS AND POPPED THEIR HEADS OFF!” Charlotte
screeches.
“My dolly has no head!” Ava wails.
“He dr ew boobies on my Barbie!” Sophia cries as she waves the torso of her inked Barbie in front of our faces.
“Hey, those look pretty good. Nice nipple placement,” I tell him.
“Why does this one have a big red dot in the middle of its chest and a shaved head,”
Jim asks as he grabs the only one with its head still intact that three-year-old Molly
is cradling to her.
“She’s got a third nipple because she was abducted by aliens and they experimented
on her. The other Barbies shunned her and cut off all of her hair when she went to
sleep,” Gavin explains.
The wails from the five girls grow louder, and we all wince at the sounds they are
producing.
“Oh my God, make it stop!” Carter complains.
“GIRLS! Calm down!” Jim yells in an effort to be heard. Living in a house with three
girls and a wife, he is quite the expert at the trials and tribulations of females.
But even he looks shocked at the amount of
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