Troubles and Treats

  “Mrs. Dellena, what’s a dirty whore?” one of the kids asks his teacher.

  “Sorry, please excuse us,” Liz says with a kind smile to the teacher as she grabs my arm and drags me down the hall where there are no classrooms or children to horrify, forcing my finger to magically get unstuck from my hair.

  “Yay, you did it!” I tell her, holding my finger up in front of her face.

  She bats my finger out of the way and looks at me in shock. “What the fuck just came out of your mouth?”

  “I thought I’d never be able to use this finger again,” I tell her in awe.

  “Shut the hell up about your finger! What the hell is really going on with you and Drew?” she demands.

  “I know. It’s a lot.”

  “You’re damn right it’s a fucking lot. Why the hell haven’t you mentioned all of this before? I thought you guys were just going through a typical dry spell that everyone goes through when they have multiple kids. This is way beyond that. I want to kick Drew’s ass way more than usual right now,” she says angrily.

  “It’s not all his fault,” I say with a sigh.

  “The fuck it isn’t! You’re his wife. His soul mate. He should be taking care of you and making sure all of your needs are met, not leaving it up to the eye candy living across the street. And Jenny, that kid is total jailbait. You need to stop any and all thoughts you might be harboring about him.”

  “Hey, don’t judge him just because he’s done time. He is a very nice person. And how the hell do you even know he was in jail?” I ask angrily.

  “Jenny, he’s like nineteen! He’s thirteen years younger than you, and he lives with his mommy and daddy. Do you really think you can just divorce Drew and this kid is going to take on a thirty-two-year-old with two kids? How the hell is he going to support you with his paper route money?”

  “Wait, what? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want to divorce Drew! Sure, Jackson is nice to look at and he’s a big help, but I don’t want to marry the guy! I love Drew. I just don’t know how to fix this,” I tell her as the tears I’ve been trying to keep inside begin falling.

  “Oh thank fucking God,” Liz says in relief. “This, we can fix. We just need to kick Drew’s ass and get his God dammed head in the game. Why the hell haven’t you just told him all of this?”

  “I don’t know! I thought he would just get it like he always has in the past. He’s always known what I wanted and needed and after a while, I just started getting pissed that he didn’t. Now that it’s gone on this long, I don’t know what the hell to do!” I wail.

  “Lucky for you, I’m here. We’re going to fix this shit,” Liz tells me.

  She puts her arm around my shoulder in a very uncharacteristic show of affection for her and we walk back to the classroom to pick up the girls while she plans a strategy.

  ~

  “When you said you were going to fix things, this really isn’t what I had in mind,” I complain an hour later.

  We drop Veronica off with Drew’s dad who was already watching Billy for the day, and Liz tells him in no uncertain terms that he needs to watch Molly as well. He calls her ma’am and scoops up both girls in the driveway and runs back into the house before we can even tell him how long we will be gone.

  We are currently sitting in the waiting room of the local salon waiting for my turn to get a Brazilian wax.

  “Before we can fix your shit, we need to fix your shit,” Liz says with a wave of her hand in the general direction of my vagina. “No man should have to get his penis caught in a jungle of pubic hair.”

  I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.

  “It’s not that bad,” I complain.

  “The last time you even took a razor to that area was seven months ago. It is THAT bad. The day you wanted me to look at your vagina I could see those things trying to jump ship out of the sides of your underwear. Your twat looked like one of those freaky clowns that’s bald down the middle of its white head with ginormous tufts of hair sprouting out by it’s ears.”

  Before I can bitch at her about comparing my vagina to a clown’s head, the receptionist calls my name and we both stand up.

  “Are you really going back there with me?” I ask.

  “Hell yes I am. Your wish is finally coming true. I will see your vagina. Plus, I really want to see the look on that woman’s face when she gets a peek at your plethora of pubes. Your copious curls, your abundant bush, the wild mane that if it sees a spark will start a forest fire,” she states.

  “Are you finished?” I ask irritably.

  “I think so. But give me five minutes and I might be able to get one more in.”

  “You are kind of dicky,” I tell her as we follow the receptionist into one of the private waxing rooms.

  “Yes, and in just a few minutes, a dick will be able to find your vagina without needing night vision goggles and a weed whacker.”

  “Okay, Jenny, if you want to just strip down and wrap the towel that’s on the table around your waist, the esthetician will be in shortly,” the receptionist says with a cheerful smile before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  “An anesthetician? Geeze, I had no idea they went to such extremes and the same guy who gives you an epidural during child birth does waxing now. Just how bad is this going to hurt?” I ask as I strip off my jeans and underwear.

  “Holy fuck, Jenny! How does that shit even fit in your underwear?!” Liz yells as she laughs and points. “And the guy who gives you an epidural is an Anesthesiologist. I’m going to need a fucking anesthesiologist to numb my eyes after seeing this!”

  I quickly turn away from her and wrap the towel around my waist so she can stop making fun of me. I reach for the hem of my shirt and begin pulling it up my stomach when Liz stops me.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Uh, I’m stripping down like the girl told me to do,” I tell her with my hands still on the edge of my shirt and my stomach exposed.

  “Do you have hairy tits or something? Why the hell would you need to take your shirt off?”

  I huff at her in annoyance that she just expects me to know what hell I’m doing in this situation.

  Pulling my shirt back down, I hop up on the table that’s covered in doctor’s office paper, careful to keep the towel firmly in place so Liz doesn’t come up with any more insults.

  “Okay, so really, how long does this take? Is she just going to like, slop some wax right on the upper part and then rip it off?” I ask Liz.

  “Uh, no. This is a Brazilian. She is going to get all up in your shit from your FUPA to your asshole,” Liz informs me with a completely serious look on her face.

  “What the hell is a 'FUPA' and what do you mean, ‘all up in my shit?'” I ask her nervously.

  “FUPA equals fat, upper pussy area. And all in your shit, like, you know, spread you open and get all in there, then flip you over on all fours and clean up your ass.”

  Why is she so matter-of-fact about this crap?! And I do NOT have a fat, upper pussy area!

  “They’re going to spread open my folds and wax in there?!”

  Liz lets out a sound of disgust and grimaces. “Please, God, never say the word folds again.”

  This is beyond embarrassing. I really did not expect that the waxing of my bits included someone getting this intimate with me.

  “What if I’m like, moist, down there? Will the wax even stick?”

  Liz makes a gagging sound at this point and gives me a dirty look. “Seriously. Folds and now moist? Cut that shit out or I’m going to puke all over this floor.”

  The door opens before I can ask any more questions and a short, cute, bubbly blonde walks in and introduces herself.

  “Hi! My name is Stephanie and I’ll be taking care of your waxing needs today,” she says as she walks over to the waxing station next to the table and stirs the already melted wax in the warming pot and begins setting out all of the waxing strips and the wooden stic
ks she’ll use to torture me to death.

  “Have you ever had a Brazilian before?” she asks as she turns around and helps me lay down on the table.

  “No, I usually just shave, but it’s been a while” I tell her as she rolls the work station on wheels closer to the table so she can reach it better.

  “Careful, you might poke an eye out or something when you get a look in there. Prepare yourself,” Liz jokes from her chair over against the wall.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s not as bad as some of the women I’ve seen come in here,” she reassures me with a smile as she parts my towel to get a look at what she’s working with.

  “Oh my,” she says softly and then quickly steps away. “Well, um. Wow. Okay, I think I’m going to need more waxing strips. And maybe more wax,” Stephanie says as she moves away from the table to grab extra supplies out of the cabinet against the wall.

  Liz is full on laughing and snorting at this point, and I lift up my hand and give her the finger without raising my head from the table.

  Stephanie comes back moments later and adds the extra supplies to the table. She dips one of the wooden sticks into the wax and holds her hand under it to catch any excess dripping, then she spreads it out all over my SUPA – skinny upper pussy area.

  It’s warm and soothing when she spreads it around and I kind of like it.

  Who knew this would actually be enjoyab-

  “AAAAAHHH MY VAGINA!” I scream suddenly at the top of my lungs, my hands flying down to cover myself and press down on the area that burns like it’s on fire to try and alleviate some of the pain.

  “OH MY GOD DID YOU PULL MY CLIT OFF?!” I yell at Stephanie in horror as she stands there holding the cloth strip that’s full of hair and quite possibly my pleasure button.

  “Sorry, I should have probably warned you I was going to do that but I find it’s best not to warn someone for the first one because they’ll just tense up and it will hurt worse,” Stephanie explains with a happy smile as she turns and picks up another wax strip and dips the wooden stick into the hot wax.

  “The first one is always the worst. Suck it up, bitch,” Liz tells me from her chair.

  The next half hour doesn’t go by quickly at all, and several times I have to stop myself from smacking Stephanie in her face. Liz must have sensed my desire to choke the poor woman and came up to the table to hold my arms down. Luckily, Stephanie redeemed herself by telling us horror stories about other women she’s waxed: women getting their monthly visitor right in the middle of waxing or women having orgasms during the event. That right there boogers my mind but then I remember how much Drew liked it when I had to rip the pieces of tree bark off of his ass during “The Great Honey Adventure”.

  One thing I can say about this whole thing is my ass has never looked better. When she had me up on all fours so she could get down in that area, she got a mirror for me. Let me just say, it’s so smooth I kind of want to pet my own asshole. Liz keeps asking me if I want some alone time so I can finger my ass, and I think she's joking so I give Stephanie’s mirror back to her before I get carried away.

  The only good part about this day is that I don’t feel so self-conscious about myself anymore. Maybe this whole time I haven’t really been worried about left-over baby fat; I’ve been worried about my vagina being too furry. I really do feel a whole lot sexier knowing what’s going on down there in my underwear right now. Once Stephanie could actually see my vagina, she had told me it was very nice. And since she’s seen a lot of vaginas in her line of work, I trust her judgment.

  I’m a little more confident now about talking to Drew as well and telling him what I need. Weird how a hairless vagina can do that for you. I’m pretty excited to finally be honest with Drew and take my new vagina out for a spin. I wish it wasn’t frowned upon to go without pants in public.

  Chapter 20 – Who’s on Goal, What’s on Basket?

  “So how good looking are we talking here? Like Chace Crawford hot or Penn Badgley hot?” Carter asks me while we’re packing up our work bags and getting ready to clock out for the night.

  Of course I tell my boys everything about the fucking home wrecker that moved in across the street. They know he’s trying to move in on my territory and take over as hottest guy on the block. Oh, hell no! That position has been mine for four years. Plus, I don’t like the way he looked at Jenny the other night. And she had made him cookies. COOKIES! She only makes cookies for me. Just like I’m the only one who ever surprises her with little candy treats. Well, I used to do that. I guess I’ve kind of forgot lately.

  “Who the fuck are Chace Penn and Crawford Badgley?” Jim asks as he walks with us towards the exit doors of the automotive plant.

  “It’s Chace Crawford and Penn Badgley. The two leading actors on Gossip Girl,” I tell him. “It’s like you’ve never even picked up an US Weekly. Live a little, Jim.”

  We head out to the parking lot and make our way to our cars. I can’t get the picture of Fuckson out of my head and the way he was so casually friendly with my wife.

  “Oh, Jenny! Thank you so much for the cookies. I can’t wait to eat your scrumptious cookies and then fuck you in the living room on a pile of cookies while your husband is at work,” I say in a high pitched voice.

  “Does he really sound like that? Because I gotta say, if he does, you have nothing to worry about,” Carter tells me as we wave to a few other guys heading out to their cars.

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly like that. It was more like, ‘Mmmm, me like cookies. Me eat cookies all gone,” I say in a deep, voice.

  “So easy a caveman can do it,” Jim says with a laugh.

  “This is no laughing matter, Jim. I know I made a huge mistake when I had my dad trail Jenny because I thought she was hiding something from me a few weeks ago. and I’m still in the doghouse for it, but what if she’s decided to get back at me by actually hiding something?”

  In all honesty, I really don’t think the stuff going on with us lately is that serious, even though I went along with the therapy and the disastrous dinner with the neighbors. I kind of just do it to humor Jenny. If she thinks something needs to be fixed, then who am I to tell her it doesn’t? I figure she will just eventually bounce back to the Jenny I know and love. The crazy, nympho Jenny who likes to test out Ben Wa balls in a sex toy store and who lets me put a remote control vibrator on her during our wedding ceremony.

  “Do you, Jenny, take Drew to be your-”

  “OH MY GOD! OH YES, YES, YES! OH JESUS YES!”

  “Well, alright then. I think that means I can now pronounce you husband and-”

  “KEEP GOING! OH GOD DON’T STOP!”

  “Um, wife? Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”

  “Suddenly, after becoming buddy-buddy with Shirtless McFucker Face, she wants vanilla sex. She wants to just…do it. No bells and whistles, no live animals, no power strips for electrical safety precautions, and no elbow pads or helmets. I don’t understand,” I complain to the guys as we get to Jim’s car first and we all stop next to it. “She ruined me for vanilla sex. She ruined me and it was the best way to be ruined ever. And now she just expects me to go back to missionary position only with the lights off?”

  Jim opens his car door and throws his bag in the backseat.

  “Elbow pads and a helmet?” Carter asks.

  “Oh man, best day ever. We went to a skateboard park and did it sliding down the ramp,” I tell him. “We had to keep stopping, getting up, and going to the top so we could slip back down again so it took a while, but it was still magical.”

  Man, those were the days.

  “Before we make any snap judgments, I think we need to meet this Jackson guy,” Jim explains.

  “It’s Fuckson. Get it right,” I tell him sternly.

  “Fine, Fuckson. I want to meet him and see for myself if he poses a threat.”

  Jenny volunteered to coach Veronica’s peewee soccer team and they have their first game tomorrow afternoon. She must reall
y be bored with work and the kids to sign up for something like that. Maybe that’s why she’s been so different lately. She’s bored and doesn’t have enough to do. Too bad she doesn’t know a thing about soccer, so I don’t think coaching is going to be as life fulfilling as she might think.

  Veronica had told me she asked Fuckson if he would come watch her game and he said yes.

  Fucking crapbag.

  Of course she doesn’t call him Fuckson. She calls him her best friend ever. Well you know who my best friends are? My two fists. And they’re eager to meet Shit on a Stick’s face. Booyah!

  The guys are already planning on coming to Veronica’s game, so I let them know they will get their chance to form an opinion the following afternoon. As we say our good-byes and pull out of the parking lot, I'm actually excited about this. My boys will meet this tool and realize what a loser he is and then we can all warn Jenny together. Like an intervention. A Fuck Face intervention. She’ll thank me by getting naked and our lives will go back to the way they should be.

  ~

  “No! Wrong way, Alex! The touchdown is that way!” Jenny screams, pointing to the opposite end of the field where little Alex is currently running with the soccer ball.

  “It’s a GOAL, Jenny. A GOAL! Touchdown is in football,” I tell her quickly as we both start yelling from the sidelines for Alex to turn around.

  “Oh my God, this soccer thing is hard. Why are there so many rules for three and four year olds?” Jenny complains as she pulls one of the kids out of the game for a break and gets Veronica ready to take her place.

  “Hey, Drew. I need to tell you something,” Jenny says as she hands Veronica her water bottle.

  Oh shit, she’s going to tell me she’s leaving me. This can’t happen!

  “Nope, no talking. This is a serious game. Pay attention.”