The Great Swami Eric does a few more arm movements that Drew repeats and then suddenly he stands up from of his chair. Drew immediately follows the movement, at which point, the woman sticks what I now see is a huge, sopping wet towel onto the seat of Drew’s chair.
Eric quickly sits back down onto his own chair, and Drew follows suit, smacking his ass down onto the wet towel and the puddle it makes in his chair. He quickly pops right back up and twists and turns to try and get a look at his ass while everyone around us is rolling with laughter
“SON OF A MOTHER FUCKING JESUS BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK ASS SHIT BITCH JUST FUCKING HAPPENED?!”
I can almost feel Jesus on his puffy cloud shaking his head in shame at us and saying, “You should have known better than to mix with my people. They will fuck you every time.”
We quickly gather up the kids and thank everyone for a wonderful time. Drew tells them we need to leave because Billy has explosive diarrhea just as Veronica begins singing at the top of her lungs, “SHIT POOP DIAWEEA. SHIT POOP DIAWEEA!”
The whole walk back to our house Drew complains, “Fucking stupid ass fuck Swami. Next time we’re invited over there, I’m going to fuck that Swami up.”
I’m not going to hold my breast for another invitation any time soon.
Chapter 9 – Great Head
“I can’t believe you’ve never played The Great Swami game before. I’m disappointed that you would fall for the oldest trick in the book.”
My dad, Andrew Senior, shakes his head at me in pity as we share a beer up at the local pub and watch the Browns game. I had invited my dad up here to get his take on Jenny and see if he would be up to tailing her for a few days. I’m not one hundred percent positive that she’s falsifying a workman’s comp claim since she stopped limping the day after she hurt her ankle, but I still have my doubts. Something stinks in suburbia and it’s not my balls.
“Can we get back to the topic at hand, please? Will you do this for me or not?” I ask as I signal the bartender for another drink.
“Son, I have had your back for twenty-four-”
“Thirty-four,” I supply.
“Thirty-four years. I am not about to quit you now, soldier. I will be on her like flies on shit. She doesn’t make a move without me knowing about it. I love the smell of deceit in the morning!”
My father’s enthusiasm for trying to catch my wife doing something bad doesn’t make me feel better.
My dad used to be a drill sergeant in the Marines until word got around just how scary of a mother fucker he was. The Corps had a hard time finding recruits in his area because no one wanted to be the guy crying like a baby while my dad screamed in his face. He had retired early and opened his own private investigation business. Unfortunately, he's never lost that drill sergeant mentality.
“I need to know that you’re on board with whatever I have to do to uncover the truth, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I mutter.
“Say it like you’ve got a set of balls, you pansy ass!”
“YES, SIR!” I shout.
My dad smacks me on the back and tells me he’ll start his recon this evening when Jenny is supposedly going to be running errands after she gets off of work.
We finish watching the Browns game while dad explains to me every few minutes what he’ll be doing to try and catch Jenny in a lie. I feel really bad about the fact that I’m going behind her back, but I need to figure out what is wrong before I can figure out how to fix it.
As the game ends and my dad and I part ways, I get in my car, turn on the radio and the song “I Would Walk 500 Miles” comes on, and I’m immediately transported back in time six years ago when Jenny and I went on our first date.
“I may have had too much to drink,” I had admitted with a big smile to Jenny as I leaned my chair back on two legs.
She had smiled back at me and the beauty of it forced me to lose my balance and start windmilling my arms as I began to tip backwards.
Jenny immediately reached out, grabbed onto the front of my shirt with her fist, and yanked my chair back on four legs. The act caused the chair to slide closer to her and suddenly for the first time that night, I was close enough to run my nose against her cheek and smell her hair.
“Did you just smell my hair?” she asked.
I pulled back and gave her a sheepish look. “That depends. If I say yes, will you stick your stiletto up my ass?”
She smiled and shook her head “No”.
“Then yes, yes I was sniffing your hair. It smells like mangoes.”
“That is so hot,” she whispered.
We stared into each other’s eyes for a few minutes, and I had to mentally smack myself out of the trance she put me in before I threw her down on the table and banged her right there in front of God and everyone.
“So, I realized I’m not even close to sober when a few minutes ago, when I piss a take…I mean took a piss, I screamed when the automatic toilet flushed. I probably won’t be able to drive you home,” I told her honestly.