Out of Whack (28 page)

       “Electroshock therapy?”

       She smiled. “You’re sure you won’t mind if I’m forward?”

       “I won’t mind.”

       “You’re certain?”

       “I’m certain.”

       “Positive?”

       “Positive.”

       “Seth, I’m so horny right now that I’m ready to have a seizure. How would you like to get a hotel room and take the next logical step in our relationship of screwing like bunnies for the rest of the night?”

       I got over the shock astonishingly fast. “I think I’d approve.”

       “Are you sure? You have an early class tomorrow. I probably won’t let you get much sleep.”

       “In select cases, sleep deprivation is worth it.”

       “Good. Travis thought you’d feel that way. Let’s go. Quickly.”

Note From Your Caring Narrator:

      
Ladies and gentlemen, we have now reached the official Out of Whack sex scene. Though it is not a gratuitous sex scene thrown in just to give kids a chance to get out their highlighters, giggle, and share selected passages with friends, I do feel it is my duty as a patriotic American to warn you in advance that the material presented will be of an explicit, adult nature. Yes, there will be insertion.

       It’s entirely possible that some of you may be uncomfortable with this type of material. You may be thinking to yourself, “The Burger Bordello scene was kind of raunchy, but it didn’t involve actual penetration. I’m not certain I want to expose myself or my children to this, yet I’m also concerned about not getting my money’s worth out of this book. What am I to do?”

       Well, you need not worry because, absolutely free of charge, I have written an alternate version of chapter twenty-eight. This precedes the smutty version, and will ensure that everyone gets to enjoy the book to the fullest extent.

       Whichever version you choose to read, I thank you.

       —Seth Trexler, Your Friend

“A Fun-Filled Festival of [CENSORED]”

       “Look both ways before you cross the street,” Laura warned. “Looking just one way may cause you to be hit by a car half as often as not looking at all, but that’s still half too many.”

       We looked both ways and crossed the street, pausing to give a cheerful wave to our friend Chip the bus driver. Upon reaching the other side, we played a cooperative game of hopscotch, because we both knew that cooperation is more enjoyable than competition. Not that we were commies, of course—just people who liked to play as a team.

       We skipped along the sidewalk until we saw our friend Skip the mailman. “Hi, Skip!” we said. “You’re sure working late tonight.”

       Skip gave us a wide smile. “Yes, I am. But that’s because I’m a worker for the United States Postal Service, the best postal service in the whole wide world, and there’s nothing that will stop me from getting good citizens like yourself their mail on time.”

       “Not even rain?” Laura asked.

       “Not even rain.”

       “Not even snow?” I asked.

       “Not even snow.”

       “Not even dead fish falling from the sky?” Laura asked.

       “Not even dead fish falling from the sky.”

       “I feel a song coming on,” I said.

       “No time for a song,” Skip told me. “I’ve got to get people their mail. I can’t wait to see the look on Ms. Cipolla’s face when she finds out that her alimony check came with postage due. See you two later, and remember, U.S. savings bonds make a great gift for a loved one!”

       We waved good-bye to Skip, then continued skipping down the sidewalk until we saw our friend Flip the fast food restaurant employee. He looked sad.

       “Flip, why is your smile upside-down?” asked Laura.

       “Oh, I’m having problems,” said Flip. “I made some new friends last week.”

       “That’s no reason to be blue!” I told him. “There’s nothing better than making new friends, as long as you keep the old ones!”

       “But they want me to smoke a cigarette!”

       Laura and I shook our heads knowingly. “Now, Flip,” Laura said, “you know that cigarettes are bad for you. If a pregnant woman smokes, the fetus inside her can shrivel up like a raisin. And the tobacco companies are ruled by inhuman profit-obsessed white Anglo-Saxon males who kick crippled puppies in their spare time.”

       “I know,” said Flip. “But I don’t want the guys to think I’m a square or something.”

       “What you’re experiencing is called peer pressure,” I said. “And it’s a bad thing. Peer pressure causes good kids like yourself to smoke, to steal candy bars from the local grocer, and even to snort paste.”

       “But what can I do?”

       “You can say no,” Laura told him. “And if they really are your friends, they’ll respect that answer.”

       Flip’s face lit up. “Thanks, Seth and Laura! I’m going to tell them ‘no’ right this very minute!” He gave us a thumbs-up sign and ran down the sidewalk. Unfortunately, he collided with a lower-class youth wearing gang colors, who knifed him to settle a grudge against those who practiced oppression.

       “Oh no!” exclaimed Laura. “Our good friend Flip the fast food restaurant employee is dead!”

       “I feel a song coming on,” I said.

       “Then let’s sing together!” Laura decided.

      
Everybody dies, it’s Mother Nature’s Way.

       ‘Cause if we didn’t die, Earth wouldn’t be okay.

       The world’s filled with people, and people need to eat.

       But we’ve got too many people, and not quite enough meat.

       [Refrain]

      
Overpopulated. We’re overpopulated.

       Our land is overpopulated, and that’s not good at all.

       [This is the end of the refrain.]

      
Each person who’s alive eats food most every day.

       But people who are dead don’t eat much food, I’d say.

       When we want to dine, it’s no fun to compete.

       That’s why people croaking is such a special treat.

       [Repeat refrain]

      
We’ll have eight billion people on our planet come next May.

       Unless we see to it that a whole bunch pass away.

       So when somebody’s murdered, it’s really kind of neat.

       ‘Cause that’s one food-eating soul we can delete.

      
[Repeat refrain a few more times until the song fades out.]

       “I feel better now,” said Laura, stepping over the blood on the sidewalk.

       “So do I. In fact, I feel great. I feel better than if I’d counted from one to hundred without a mistake.”

       “I love you, Seth,” Laura said, her eyes twinkling.

       “I’m glad you do,” I told her. “Because love is a good thing.”

       And truly, it is.

“Love, Virgin Style”

       “Oh, wow,” I said, peeking in the bathroom. “They gave us free shampoo! And pre-wrapped soap!”

       Laura came up behind me and wound her arms around my waist. “I’m glad you approve of the room.”

       “Look how mold-free that shower curtain is.”

       “It’s very nice. What do you think of the bed?”

       I was trying not to think of the bed. “It looks comfy.”

       “It looks verrrrrry comfy,” said Laura, purring like a cat. “Shall we find out for sure?”

       I wanted nothing more than to find out for sure, but I was also having a serious degree of anxiety. I’d been perspiring heavily at Laugh Attack, and I was certainly sweating now. Had I put on enough deodorant this morning? Did I have B.O.? You can’t make love to somebody properly if you reek! And why did I have to pick today to wear the boxer shorts with the holes and ketchup stains? Had that big zit on my chest gone away?

       “Is it okay if I take a shower first?” I asked.

       “Of course,” Laura replied. “Would you like me to join you?”

       Actually, I didn’t. I intended to do some serious cleaning of body parts that I didn’t much want her to see me rubbing. But I couldn’t say “Sorry, Laura, but I’m not positive there aren’t any lingering remnants of that last bowel movement.” How was I going to get out of this?

       “No, that’s okay,” I said.

       Hey, you don’t always need a creative solution to this kind of thing.

       “I’ll be waiting,” Laura said. “Don’t dawdle.”

       “I assure you there’ll be no dawdling,” I told her, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I undressed. Good God, was I really this skinny? Were my knees really that lopsided? And, jeez, I always remembered having at
least
another half inch!

       After a very frustrating thirty seconds trying to figure out how to get the shower to work, I waited for the water to heat up and did breathing exercises. Everything was going to be okay. People had sex with each other all the time. It was no big deal, and there was no reason to be freaking out. Laura wasn’t going to be expecting a gold medal performance.

       But what if I only earned a booby prize?

       I stepped in the shower and yelped as the scalding water burned the hell out of my chest. I burned the hell out of my back bending over to adjust the temperature. Once it was tolerable, I unwrapped the soap and promptly dropped it. This was scary. Sexual activity was not a good time to be losing one’s motor skills.

       I gave myself a thorough scrubbing, then shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. I dried myself, wrapped a towel around my waist, and then glanced at the mirror again. I certainly looked better now that it was all fogged up.

       This was it. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the room.

       “Hi there, handsome,” said Laura. She was seated on the edge of the bed, hair draped over her shoulders. Her clothing consisted of exactly one black bra and one black pair of panties. I thought my tongue was going to drop to the floor and splatter saliva all over my toes.

       “You look...” Beautiful? Sexy? Good enough to devour with an almost supernatural passion? “...gorley.”

       “I look what?”

       “Sorry. I think I was trying to say ‘gorgeous’ and ‘lovely’ at the same time.”

       “Ah.”

       “Really, you look incredible. That bra goes perfectly with those panties.”

       “I think they’d look even better flung across the room.” She lay on her back and stretched out her arms. “Come and get me, you huge slice of masculinity.”

       I strode toward her like a man with a purpose. After two steps, the towel slipped off. I hadn’t meant to be quite so naked quite so soon, but I figured covering myself up again at this point would be weird. I wasn’t even remotely erect, which I thought was odd considering that there was a mostly-naked woman writhing in the bed in front of me.

       “Oooh, I like what I see,” moaned Laura as I reached the bed. This improved my self-confidence a few dozen leagues. “I want to be naked, too. Help me.”

       This is the part where I decided I was going to be a sexual beast and tear her panties right off with a passionate ripping sound. I grabbed them by the left leg-hole and gave a powerful yank.

       For those of you who may be considering this type of panty-removal technique some time in the future, it should be pointed out that real-life panties don’t quite tear the way they do in the movies. All I really did was cause Laura to wince in pain. So, like a moron, I yanked again, hoping that the second try would rip them apart and make up for the first failed attempt.

       “Ow!” said Laura. “Seth, you’re giving me a wedgie.”

       I released my grip. “I guess this doesn’t work.”

       “Slide them off...please...”

       Well, as long as she said “please.”

       She lifted her buttocks, and I slid the panties down her thighs, past the knees, past the ankles, and—success!—off the feet. I tried to fling them across the room by tossing them over my head, but they struck the ceiling fan and were batted back at Laura, hitting her in the face. I suspected that she didn’t find this particularly erotic.

       She tossed them to the side, and stayed in her stretched-out position as I decided the next step should be to kiss a path from her feet to her mouth. I couldn’t really mess that up unless I lost my balance while crawling and fell on her. Which seemed like a definite possibility, but I’d just have to take the risk.