“Nothing to say for yourself, asshole? You can’t even TRY to work? You lazy piece of shit. Get off your ass and make me a slush!”
People are starting to stare. I can feel their eyes on me as I rape the slush machine with my hands. I pull cords, I stick my finger in holes, and I remove the entire front cover, exposing all of the inner workings.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the slush machine,” a man in a corner store uniform tells me.
“Why the hell isn’t your machine working? You need to fix the machine,” I tell him, standing there with the cover of it in my hands like it's a shield.
“I’m sorry but there’s a part that isn’t working. We had to order a new machine and it won’t be in until next week,” he explains, prying the cover out of my hand and setting it aside.
“Next week? NEXT WEEK? What are people supposed to do for slushes if they have to wait a week?” I ask.
“God doesn’t want you to have a slush,” Gavin tells me.
I look down at him questioningly.
“God is king of the world and he says you don’t need a slush. Can I get some ice cream?” he asks.
“God doesn’t know. HE DOESN”T KNOW,” I complain.
I’m pretty sure I’m having an out-of-body experience. I can see myself acting like a complete douchebag, but there is nothing I can do about it. I’m like a junkie that needs a fix. My hands are shaking, my head hurts, and I’m about two seconds away from selling my kid and my shoes for another hit of black cherry slush.
I take Gavin’s hand, walk calmly out of the store, and drive home.
As soon as we get in the house I grab the phone and call Carter. He picks up on the first ring and all I can do is sob hysterically.
“OH MY GOD, CLAIRE?! What’s going on? Is everything okay? Is it the baby? Did Gavin get hurt?” he shouts.
“The slush machine was broken!” I wail.
Dead silence on the other end.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asks.
“Did I stutter? The slush machine was broken. I couldn’t get my slush. I need a fucking slush!” I cry.
“Wait a minute, this is all because of a slush?” he questions.
Oh my God, it’s he doesn’t know anything about me. How can I marry someone who doesn’t understand me?
“I thought something serious happened,” he says irritably.
“Something serious DID happen! Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”
Carter sighs and I try to calm myself by NOT thinking about how much I want a slush. Instead, I think about how I want to stick my fist up Carter’s ass and give him a prostate massage with my fist.
“I’m getting off of work in a few minutes. My parents should be there in about an hour.”
Oh shit. The future in-laws are in town for a visit. Thank God I didn’t get arrested at the corner store. That would have been awkward.
“I’ll bring you a slush on my way home,” he promises.
“Black cherry?”
“Yes, black cherry,” he confirms.
“I love you! See you soon!”
~
Carter’s parents show up right on time. Thankfully I finish my big gulp slush by then and can carry on a normal, non bat shit crazy conversation. Madelyn walks through the door first and tells us all to come in the living room and close our eyes because she has a surprise for us. A few seconds later, Charles says, “Okay, open them!”
Gavin and Carter let out excited yells and I groan.
“A puppy! A puppy! You got me a puppy! I can hug it and squeeze it and ride it like a bike and give it haircuts!” he shouts excitedly as he gets down on the floor.
The puppy, if you can call it that, is almost the same size as Gavin, and it looks like a polar bear.
“Is it even legal to own one of those?” I question. The more I look at the thing, the more I wonder if they really did just bring us an endangered animal that will grow to be nine-hundred pounds. Do you have any idea how big of a shit a nine-hundred pound animal takes?
“This is a pure bread Great Pyrenees,” Madelyn tells me, expecting me to be impressed.
I'm not.
“Wow, this is awesome. Thank you guys so much. You know I’ve always wanted one of these,” Carter tells them.
I look at him in shock. He’s always wanted a horse for a pet? This thing is going to be bigger than our car.
“How exciting. We get to house-train a dog AND a new baby. Can they both be taught to shit outside? Or should we put a diaper on the dog? Pick one, because we’re not doing both,” I whisper to Carter as he pets the dog, and his parents take a seat on the couch.
“Don’t worry. It will be fine,” Carter whispers back as he stands up and lets Gavin run around the room with the dog playfully following behind him.
“The first time he shits in my shoes I’m going to rub your nose in it,” I threaten.
“I have all of the American Kennel Club paperwork for you out in the car as well as the authenticity papers from the breeder,” Madelyn tells us.
Super. Our dog has more class than we do.
“What’s his name?” Carter asks.
“Reginald Phillip III,” Charles answers.
“Oh, that’s getting changed immediately,” I mutter.