Troubles and Treats
Page 7

The waitress comes to our table a few minutes later and Claire and Liz each order another beer.
“I’ll take whatever size Liquid Courage you have on draft,” I tell her with a smile.
“I’m sorry, what?” the waitress asks in confusion.
“I don’t know. My friends told me to order it. Do you guys not have it? Maybe it’s new.”
Liz leans over and covers my mouth with her hand. “Just bring her a drink with the highest proof alcohol you’ve got.”
Claire is laughing and typing something into her cell phone.
“What are you doing? Are you putting that on Facebook? Don’t you dare! How was I supposed to know it wasn’t a brand of beer?” I complain.
“Actually, that isn’t a bad idea. I wonder if I could market my own beer for the shop. Liquid Courage: helping men get laid for centuries.” Claire laughs as she slips her cell phone back in her purse.
The waitress comes back with the girls' beers and a shot glass filled with a pinkish 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 f**king 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 f**king 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, na**d 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 na**d, 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 drew 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 noise that is coming out of them.
They begin crying even harder because they think Jim is yelling at them, which in turn produces snot, dry heaves, and honest to God foot stomping.
“No, no, no! Please stop crying!” Carter pleads with them, getting down on his knees so he is eye level with them.
“I WANT MY MOMMY!” Veronica shouts.
And thus begins a half hour chant of “I WANT MY MOMMY” from five little girls.
Instead of calling the wives and admitting to them that we have no idea how to control the situation, Carter calls his own mother. She tells him to bribe them with candy. Exactly six seconds after he hangs up the phone, each girl has a sucker in her hand and a smile on her face as they walk back to the toy room to play “Headless Barbie Princess Parade”.
The peace and quiet lasts exactly fifteen minutes.
I manage to get Billy changed with only a little bit of puke coming up my throat but then I actually throw up in the kitchen sink when I look down and realize I have some poop on my finger. Carter takes over at that point and gives Billy a bottle and rocks him to sleep. Gavin is sitting next to Carter on the couch playing his Nintendo DS when all of a sudden, more blood curdling screams start coming from the toy room.
“You have got to be kidding me with this shit!” Jim complains.
We start to get up to see what the problem is now when all five girls shuffle out into the living room in a giant clump. Upon closer inspection, once we are able to get them to finally stop screaming and ask them why they are walking around with their heads all touching in the middle and refusing to separate, we find out that unsupervised suckers with little girls is a no-no.
“Oh sweet Mary. What happened?” Jim asks them.
They all start talking at once, each one with a different version of the story and who is to blame. One says it had something to do with a giraffe and a cell phone, another says it was because there were birds flying around and the princess fell out of her tower, and yet another says the crayons were talking and told her to do it.
I am beginning to wonder if the girls are dropping acid in the toy room instead of playing nicely while enjoying suckers.
I guess the giraffe on the phone talking to the birds who buzz Cinderella’s tower while the red crayon stabs people is the reason there are currently five suckers stuck in five long piles of hair which in turn are all stuck together in one big ball of hairy stickiness. They look like a set of sextuplets joined at the head. It’s funny for a few minutes until we realize the only way to get the suckers out is to cut their hair. And there is no way you can cut a little girl’s hair without their mother noticing.
The three of us stand there staring at the girls in horror, wondering what to do.
“Claire is going to kill me. She’s been growing Sophia’s hair out since she was born. She only gets trims,” Carter says nervously as he walks up behind us with Billy still asleep on his shoulder. “Maybe I should call my mom again.”
“NO! We are not calling your mother. We are grown ass men and we can figure out how to fix this shit!” Jim scolds.
“FIX SHIT!” Molly yells.
“FIX SHIT, FIX SHIT, FIX SHIT!” all five girls chant.
“We’re out of our depth, man. We’ll never make it out of this alive,” I yell to Jim over the girls chanting.
“We just need a plan. Where is the closest wig store?” Jim asks.
“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard!” Carter argues.
I look at Billy in envy as he sleeps soundly on Carter’s shoulder through the chaos.
“Do you have a better idea, genius?” Jim asks him.
The three of us stare at each other blankly, not one single idea coming to mind that will ensure our wives don’t gouge out our eyes with spoons.
“Get me some scissors, a razor blade, a jar of peanut butter and some safety goggles,” Gavin says, coming up next to us. “I got this one.”
~
Jenny walks into our bedroom a few hours later to find me sprawled out on top of the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Why are their Barbie heads hanging from our ceiling?” she asks as she climbs into bed next to me and rolls over onto her back.
“Well, Gavin decided all the other Barbies needed a warning. He figured if they saw what happens to Barbies that disobey, they’d think twice about putting Ken in a frilly pink tutu and purple stilettos during a Barbie parade.”
We stare in silence at the twenty little plastic heads affixed to the ceiling by their hair with scotch tape.
“Where are the kids?” Jenny asks.
“They’re both in bed. It was a long day.”
Before I even finish the sentence, Jenny is on top of me, straddling my h*ps and ripping off my clothes. It’s been so long since she took control like this, I’m momentarily stunned and don’t move. She has my pants and boxers off before I can blink and pulls a Hulk Hogan and rips my tee shirt right down the middle.
“Oh my God! That was my favorite shirt!” I yell, sadly glancing down at the torn lettering that used to say: Bitches ain’t shit but hoes and tricks – Ghandi.
Jenny pulls her mouth away from my chest, leans back, and glares at me.
“Are you seriously complaining about a shirt right now?”
Oh Jesus, what the f**k is wrong with me? Why am I even talking???
“No, no, no, no! Keep going. Please, God, keep going.”
Jenny goes back to what she was doing, kissing her way up my chest and grinding her pelvis into my raging hard-on.
My hands clutch onto her h*ps and help her move faster on top of my dick.
“You still have your clothes on,” I mumble through groans as she licks her way up the side of my neck and sucks my earlobe into her mouth. “OH SWEET SUGAR POPS!”
My h*ps jerk against her as she swirls her tongue around my ear.
She pulls away suddenly and I groan at the loss of her mouth on my ear until I see she’s sitting up and pulling her shirt up and over her head. Her glorious tits are spilling out of her black lace bra, and my hands immediately gravitate to them, palming them and rolling them around in my hands. She hasn’t let me anywhere near the twins since she started breastfeeding Billy, and I made that crack about cookies and milk. I feel like a crack addict getting a hit after months of being clean. I want to cry like a baby as I hold their fullness in my hands. I feel her ni**les harden beneath the lace, and I’m wondering if I’m even going to last long enough to savor this moment.
Jenny leans over me, sucks my earlobe back into her mouth and starts grinding her h*ps harder against me. She’s moaning and breathing heavy in my ear and the warmth of her breath is making me forget all about the fact that she still has her skirt and underwear on and I’m not inside of her yet. I move my h*ps faster between her legs, and she says the words that have the power of making me come in a split second.
“Felix wants to purr with Buck.”
Yes, we named our privates. Sue me.
Jenny starts thrusting her h*ps faster, my dick rubbing against the cotton of her underwear, and I really want to reach down, move her underwear aside, and push myself inside of her but I can already feel my orgasm creeping up and my hands are clutched too tightly to her h*ps to move them.
Before I can stop it, I’m jerking, convulsing, and shooting my load against her white cotton underwear and the inside of her skirt.
“Fuck! Holy crab rangoons!” I shout as the orgasm makes me twitch and my toes curl.
“Are you coming already?” Jenny asks.
“I’m sorry! YES! Oh f**k YES!”
She keeps moving against me and all of a sudden begins shouting her own excitement.
“Oh my gosh me too! Oh yes, yes, yes!” she yells, sitting up on top of me and thrashing her head all around. “OHHHHHHHHHH, OOOOOOOOOH!”
I lie perfectly still wondering what the f**k is going on as she starts slapping her hands against my bare chest and continues to flop her head all over the place, her long hair smacking me in the face as she works out the longest orgasm in the history of orgasms.
“YES! YES! YES! YES! OHHHHHHHHH YES YES YES!”
I’m completely amazed that she’s still going strong. My penis has already started to go soft and her va**na isn’t even touching it right now. She’s just humping air.
“YES! YES! DON’T STOP! OOOOOOOOOH YES!”
Don’t stop what exactly? Don’t stop lying here wondering how this is happening right now?
She finally ceases all movement and collapses on top of me, breathing heavy and sighing in contentment.
Within seconds she’s up and off of me and standing next to the bed. She leans down and kisses my cheek. “That was amazing. I’m going to go check on the kids.”
She walks out of the room, and I’m left in bed with a shirt torn in half, na**d from the waist down, my wilted c**k resting against my thigh, and twenty Barbie heads silently judging me when I hear her shout from across the hall.