“Um, no. Jackson is gay. I told you that,” she says as she walks into the kitchen to grab a few bottles from the fridge to pack into the diaper bag.
“No, you most certainly did NOT tell me that! I’m pretty sure that is something I would have clearly remembered,” I complain as I glance behind me down the hall to where Jackson disappeared.
“What’s the big deal? We know plenty of gay people. You’re not turning into a homeopathic are you?” she demands angrily.
“No, I’m not turning into someone who uses alternative medicine,” I reply with a laugh.
“This isn’t funny, Drew. If you have a problem with gay people, we have a serious issue.”
“I don’t have a problem with gay people! I have a problem with thinking some guy wants to bang my wife when the entire time he wants to bang the Hershey Highway. This would have saved me a lot of headaches, let me tell you,” I explain.
“You thought Jackson wanted to have sex with me?” Jenny asks in surprise.
“Um, yes. Why the hell wouldn’t I? He’s a good-looking guy and you’re hot as fuck. Of course I would think Jackson wants to have sex with you,” I tell her. “And another thing...he’s been in that bathroom too long. If he’s spooping in our toilet, we’re going to have words.”
Jenny pauses with a bottle in her hand and looks at me in confusion.
“If Jackson wants to poop in our toilet, he can poop in our toilet. He’s our friend. Jim poops in our toilet all the time,” she says.
“Jim poops in our toilet all the time because he has three girls who constantly knock on the door and ask him if he can paint their nails or brush Barbie’s hair. His poop gets stage fright at his house. This is completely different. Jackson is depositing spoop in our home!” I complain.
“Will you keep your voice down! He’s going to hear you!” Jenny scolds.
“I think he SHOULD hear me! He can take as many dumps as he likes in my toilet. But they can’t be spoop dumps!”
Jenny mutters to herself as she puts Billy down in his bouncy seat up on the counter and buckles him in.
“Stop saying spoop! I don’t even know what that is. You know I don’t like it when you use big words I don’t know,” she complains as she zips the diaper bag closed.
“It’s very simple to understand. Jackson said he had sex this morning. Thereby confirming that he has spooge floating around in his back door regions. It’s not just poop at that point anymore, Jenny. It’s SPOOP. He’s SPOOPING where we brush our teeth! Now every time I go in there, I’m going to see spoop. Spoop in the toilet, spoop on the floor, spoop on the walls. Everywhere I look there will be SPOOP and it’s all his fault!”
Jackson is gay. Jackson does NOT want to sleep with my wife. This makes me so happy. Spoop makes me so sad.
“That man made you a trophy case and is taking you shoe shopping today. He can spoop on our living room carpet if he wants!” Jenny argues.
“Oh, now you’re just being silly. Why would he spoop on the carpet? He’s not a dog,” I tell her as I make faces at Billy while he coos and smiles at me.
“If you turn out to be gay, you’d never spoop in Daddy’s toilet, would you, Billy? No you wouldn’t! You’d keep your spoop to yourself because you love Daddy.”
A few minutes later, Jackson walks into the kitchen and stands next to me. All I can do is look at his hands and hope he washed the spoop off of them. It will be embarrassing if I have to remind him.
“RAPE ME! MOMMY! RAPE ME!”
Jenny sighs and shakes her head when she hears Veronica yelling from the bathroom in the upstairs hallway.
“Um, is she asking you to rape her?” Jackson questions with a laugh.
“Yep, she totally is. She’s having a hard time saying ‘wipe me’ right now after she goes to the bathroom by herself,” I explain to him.
I wonder when Jackson is in his own home, if he screams, “SPOOP ME! SPOOP ME!”
“It’s not funny when she does it in a McDonald’s bathroom that is full of people,” Jenny says as she leaves the kitchen and heads down the hall to help Veronica.
Jackson and I are left alone together in the kitchen with Billy, and I’m having a hard time looking him in the eye.
“I take it you didn’t know I was gay,” Jackson finally says.
“No, but it’s all good, man. I don’t judge.”
Unless you spoop in my toilet. Then I will judge the mother fucking spoop out of you.
“Okay, good. Because I really like this guy, and I really like you and Jenny,” he tells me.
And you really like to spoop.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I got something else for you,” he says as he jogs over to the front door and picks up a bag I hadn’t even seen him put there.
He walks back over and hands me the bag. I dig inside and pull out a shirt that says: I like blow jobs, anal, and shopping. Not particularly in that order.
Oh man. Here it comes. I’m going to cry.