Troubles and Treats

“I don’t know guys. What if he gets every single question wrong? That’s just going to depress me more,” I tell them.

“Trust me, this will work. You will see once and for all that you and Drew have not grown apart as much as you think,” Liz tells me.

“This is going to be so fun! I’m officially scheduling a game night for two weeks from now,” Claire announces.

“Clear your schedules and get sitters. This is an ‘adult only’ night,” Liz adds.

We get lunch for ourselves and the kids and discuss how the game will work while we eat. I don’t know whether I’m nervous or excited. I just hope this whole thing doesn’t throw up in my face.

Chapter 23 – Zombie Apocalypse

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Jim states nervously.

“Don’t be a pu**y. This is the best idea ever. If the girls can do it and live through it, so can we. Do you really want your wife to go around telling people she did this before you? Get your balls out of her purse and man up,” I tell Jim.

Liz is at a meeting with her buyer and left Jim in charge of the store for a few hours before we have to be at work. Not a very wise decision on her part considering the last time she left Jim alone at the store, we rearranged her front window display with naked female mannequins having an orgy. So really, whatever happens here this evening is Liz’s fault for trusting Jim to behave.

Carter had mentioned the other night how he’s never been maced and we found out that none of us had. It’s embarrassing that all of our wives have been through something horrific like that and we haven’t. So, I devised a plan. An evil, genius plan.

“Alright, there’s no one back in the  p**n  room. Who’s going to do the honors?” Carter asks as he emerges from the hallway next to the counter.

Two years ago, Liz installed a  p**n o room in her store. The shelves are lined with every  p**n o movie known to man. To avoid people stealing them and to stop any embarrassment of some poor, lonely librarian having to carry the movie box out in front of other people so everyone in the store knows she likes midget donkey sex, the DVD cases are empty and each one is assigned a three-digit number. If anyone wants to buy one, they just have to come up to the front counter and tell the cashier what number they want. Instead of saying, “I’d like to buy ‘Dickman and Throbbinhood’,” they can just say, “Could I get number four-twenty-three, please?”

Since neither Carter nor Jim want to actually get maced in the face, we decide to spray some mace in the small  p**n o room where it will be easily contained. Then, we can just walk in there and see how we’re affected. We never really have to tell anyone how we were maced; we can just tell people from now on that we have “experience” with being maced. It’s kind of perfect if I do say so myself.

It’s sad, really, that I can’t find a good macing shirt for the occasion. Instead, I had to settle for my backup for emergency situations: I’m full of awesome.

“Shouldn’t we wait until the store closes?” Jim asks, looking nervously at the door.

“Your wife will be back before the store closes. We need to do this shit now,” I tell him, grabbing the industrial size can of mace from under the counter. “The girls were out of commission for what, twenty minutes or so? And they were sprayed directly in the eyes. Since we’re just going to be standing in a room where it’s lingering in the air, we’re probably only going to get a small percentage of what they got. We’ll be fine. Even if a customer does come in, they'll have no idea what’s going on.”

Jim taps his fingers on the counter, looks over at the door again, and then down at his watch. “Okay, fine. Let’s hurry up and get this over with in case Liz comes back early.”

Carter and I let out a victory yell, and I hand him the can to let him do the spraying.

“Go ahead man, just open the door a crack, spray as much as you can, and shut it really quickly,” I explain.

Carter takes the can, gives me a salute, and turns and jogs down the hallway.

As soon as he leaves, the bell above the door rings and Jim and I turn around and see three women walk in the door.

“Shit, customers. What the f**k do we do?” Jim whispers frantically.

“Relax. It’s contained in the back room. We just wait on them like normal and then go back there. If the mace all faded away, Carter can just spray it again,” I tell him.

The three women are off in a far corner giggling over something on one of the shelves so I wander over to where they are and see if they need any assistance.

“Hello there, ladies. What can I help you with this evening?”

They all start giggling again and each one turns bright red when they try and look me in the eyes.

“Um, well, my friend Jamie here has never been to a sex toy store before. So, what would you recommend for her first toy?” one of the women asks.

Normally, I enjoy helping out the customers in Liz’s store. I’m kind of a genius when it comes to all of the things in here but as soon as I start to impart my wisdom on them, my nose starts to tickle and I feel a sneeze coming on.

I let out four rapid sneezes right in a row and apologize to the ladies, asking them to follow me to another display so I can show them a few things for beginners.

As I’m holding up a bullet with a c**k ring attachment, I feel my eyes start to itch and I’m wondering if I’m suddenly getting allergies or something. The three girls are so embarrassed they are barely even listening to what I’m saying, and I feel like my sex intelligence is wasted on them. I’m holding the bullet and I’m rubbing my eyes furiously now since they won’t stop itching. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">