To the Beach (One)
“Dude,” I tell Paul on the way home. “You can’t just spend the rest of your life looking after a child incapable of growing up, you know? You have to do something about your Laura chick. Be a man, Paul!” Take that stupid diamond ring out of your pocket and just freaking propose to her under the rain for all I care. Just stop my misery, goddamit!
This Laura chick is Paul's longtime girlfriend that Ann and I never really approved of since they started dating. I must confess. She is beautiful, pleasant and one hell of a cook. (I am not going to tell this to Paul but her Chicken Lasagna is to die for, and it is really hard to not ask for a second serving) But the spoiled brat in us, in me, never really cared about spending much time with her even though we have always known how much Paul loves her since the beginning of their relationship. I think they have been together for four years now. But who is counting?
“You’re right. I don’t want to do that. I think the kid hates me, anyway,” Paul says. He is teasing. I know it. And I am exerting much effort in trying to not beat the hell out of him because; First, he is a lot older than me and I have been told to respect the seniors. Second, there is really no way that I could beat the hell out of him. I have had enough bruises in my lifetime, thanks.
“I know what that knucklehead is going to say when you settle things with his mom,” I grunt and unfasten my seatbelt when we finally reach my home. Getting out of his car feels a little odd, but he needs to pick Laura up from the canteen for their dinner date. So, I take my bag and pat the top of his car a little harder than usual. “Good riddance!”
You’re fired. You’re free. Get out of here before I change my mind.