“Honey, are you okay? Does anything hurt? You poor thing!” Aunt Bobbie cries as everyone moves off of Noel and she helps her up from the ground while I continue lying here in agony.
“Wow, that really was a vintage dress. One little spark and the whole skirt went up in flames,” Bev muses, rubbing her hand up and down Noel’s arm as they stare at the front of her dress.
I’ve stopped screaming at this point since that just made everything hurt worse, and no one gives a fuck that my dick was just incinerated on my wedding day. I writhe in pain in the grass, wondering if something else around me is on fire, or if the smell making its way to my nose is really the scent of my own burnt ball hair.
“At least we got the fire put out before you lost the entire skirt,” Aunt Bobbie states, wrapping her arm around Noel’s shoulder. “You’ve still got a few good inches left on that thing to cover up your hoo-ha.”
They all laugh as they look down at what’s left of Noel’s skirt, the edge hanging down at the top of her thighs and indeed covering her hoo-ha, laying in black, burnt tatters all around her bare legs.
The scent from moments ago finally engulfs me, so horrible that I dry-heave, my body jerking forward with the need to throw up and or cry, worrying that the smell of burnt ball hair has made its way up to me because my dick is still on fire.
When my knees come up as I heave, white-hot pain explodes between my legs a thousand times worse than seconds ago, and I can’t stop the painful cry that flies out of my mouth when my vision starts fading in and out. I really feel like one of these fucking people should be checking on me now that they know Noel is no longer at risk of becoming one big ball of fire, because I HAVE TWO BIG BALLS THAT ARE ACTUALLY ON FUCKING FIRE!
Knowing I most likely need medical attention STAT, I grit my teeth and scream as loud as I can.
“MY MOTHER FUCKING DICK IS ON MOTHER FUCKING FIRE! PAY ATTENTION TO ME AND MY DICK FIRE!”
The band suddenly stops playing, everyone in the yard stops screaming, and somehow, one of the guests figured out how to stop the fireworks from going off every two seconds. The quietness in the yard is only interrupted by a quiet curse from Fat Ralph, complaining that things were just starting to get fun and now he’s bored. The silence only lasts for a couple of seconds before everyone staring down at me in shock suddenly realizes what I’ve yelled and they all start shouting and moving.
“SAM!” Noel screams in a panic, dropping down next to me and pulling my head onto her lap.
“Reggie, call an ambulance!” Bev cries, coming over to crouch down behind Noel.
“Tell us where it hurts, Sam,” Alex demands, bending over to poke and prod at my neck, shoulders and chest, asking me after each jab of his finger if it hurts.
I smack his hand away, crying out when I move. Noel runs her hands through my hair to try and sooth me, but not even the touch of her hand can stop the blistering pain between my legs.
“What can I do? Tell me what to do?” Noel asks with a quivering, terrified voice.
I hold my body perfectly still with my head in her lap, looking up at her with tears of pain streaming down my face.
“I just need you to look down at my dick and tell me if it’s on fire,” I tell her through wheezing pants. “If the fire is out, please don’t touch it or the ashes of my burnt dick will crumble in your hands and float away with the breeze.”
Aunt Bobbie suddenly pushes her way through the crowd that has gathered around us.
“EVERYONE OUT OF MY WAY! THIS MAN NEEDS THE COOLING TOUCH OF MY LIPS ON HIS MEMBER!” she shouts, falling to the ground on all fours and crawling toward me.
“Holy shiiiii-iiiiiiit!” Fat Ralph exclaims, stretching the curse out into two syllables as he stares down at me. “You done caught one of those wily fireworks with your dick. And here I thought you were a pussy. I lit a firework and shot it out of my ass once, but stopping a firework with your dick? That’s some straight-up gangster shit right there.”
He bends down and holds his fist out for me to bump, shrugging and stepping back when I don’t move because I’m too busy literally feeling the blisters form on my shaft and balls and not caring one bit that I’m full-on crying like a baby with my head in Noel’s lap.
“Did you get hit by the same firework that torched my dress? In the balls?” Noel asks in shock, her head turning to look down between my legs.
She tries to cover her cringe with a scary, teeth-clenched smile when she quickly looks away from the scorched crotch of my pants and back to me, but I saw the fear in her eyes and can only imagine what it looks like down there.
“It’s okay, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks,” she reassures me through her teeth and fake smile.
“It looks like someone doused his dick in gasoline and lit a match,” Reggie mumbles, which earns him a smack to the thigh from Bev, who is still crouched down behind Noel.
“It’s YOUR fault if our son-in-law’s penis is melted off and they can never give us more grandchildren!” she shouts at him before turning back to speak softly at me, look down at my face with a fake smile that matches Noel’s. “It’s fine, Sam. Just a teeny tiny little burn that I’m sure a little ointment will fix.”
Nicholas appears out of nowhere, panting and out of breath as he pushes through all the people still standing around staring at the burning embers of my penis.
“I ran back to the house and got something that will help,” he announces, tossing a bag of frozen peas at me.
As soon as the cold, hard bag of tiny frozen vegetable balls lands on my lap with a flop, my eyes bug out of my head and I let out a blood curdling scream. The crowd collectively gasps in sympathy, all of them taking a few steps back when a string of curses flies from my mouth that consist mostly of alternating versions of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, my fucking dick!” and “Fucking mother fucker shit fuck shitting fucker, my fucking dick!”
I continue sobbing and swearing nonsense as my dick throbs in the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced while Nicholas and Alex deal with the guests, getting them to stop gawking at me and finally move away by reminding them about the free, open bar.
I keep right on crying and cursing as Noel continues running her fingers through my hair and I hear a siren in the distance get louder and louder. The ambulance backs right up along the side of the house and into the backyard with the help of Reggie directing its way, stopping a few feet from where I’m lying.
The cursing and the crying continues as the two EMS workers hustle out of the vehicle, open the back doors to pull out the gurney, one of them kindly asking Noel to move out of the way so they can lift me up onto it. I’m still mumbling random “fucks” of pain as the two men lean over my body that they’ve strapped to the bed on wheels and take a few seconds to assess the situation. I finally stop carrying on like a baby – a baby with its mother fucking dick on fire– but I only stop because one of them suddenly rips away what’s left of the burnt crotch of my pants that melted to my balls, and I pass out before the scream of agony gets past my lips.
Chapter 18
That’s Not Where Pee Goes
Noel
“Are you sure you want to do this here?” I ask Sam softly, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, holding his hand in mine.
“I don’t want to wait one more second, but are YOU sure you want to do this here?” he repeats back, bringing our hands up to kiss the top of mine. “This isn’t exactly a dream wedding location, and do you really want to marry me knowing I’m a pussy?”
I shake my head at him and take a minute to look around the small hospital room where we’ve been for the last six hours while Sam was treated for a small, circular burn right in the middle of the shaft of his penis. Just like my mother reassured him in the yard, it was nothing a little ointment couldn’t fix.
When Sam passed out after the EMS ripped some of the burnt material of his pants away from his skin, I lost about ten years off of my life riding in that ambulance with him w
hile he was unconscious. He came to as soon as the ambulance pulled into the hospital, and when the EMS workers told us it wasn’t anything serious, Sam went a little crazy. He argued with them in the ambulance, as they pushed him through the hospital doors, down the hall and didn’t stop until the doctor came in and confirmed what they had told us. Even between winces of pain every time he moved, he hasn’t stopped calling himself a sissy, pussy, big baby, and every other insult he can think of after the doctor left the room, up until this moment.
Before I can reassure him that I would never think he was a pussy, a nurse walks into the room to clean off the area and apply some topical cream. We both watch her quietly as she works and I figure Sam must be feeling a little less angry and argumentative with the nice, young woman. And then she has to go and speak.
“If you didn’t have high blood pressure issues, we’d immediately discharge you for such a minor injury,” she states, dragging Sam’s hospital gown back down and pulling off her blue rubber gloves. “The doctor wants to keep an eye on your levels for a little while before we send you home.”
When she turns to toss her gloves into the trash can, Sam’s head whips to mine.
“Did you hear the way she said minor injury, all judgy-like?” he whispers. “The only reason my blood pressure is so high is because they keep calling my melted dick a minor injury. I’d like to know how SHE’D feel if someone lit her vagina on fire. We’ll see who’s the pussy THEN.”
Sam shuts his mouth and we both give the nurse a tight-lipped smile when she finishes writing on his chart, tells us she’ll be back to check on him in a little while and leaves the room.
“You aren’t a pussy, stop saying that,” I scold him when we’re finally alone.
Leaning down, I press my lips to Sam’s for a quick kiss before pulling back to continue what I was saying.
“I really think the doctor just didn’t fully grasp the severity of the situation. I mean sure, the firework only left behind a really small burn, but the spark that burnt off all your ball hair and melted the crotch of your pants is going to leave behind a lot of scars,” I remind him. “I mean, not actual scars, but you know, nightmares and stuff.”
Sam smiles up at me for the first time since we got here, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling my face closer to his.
“And this is one of the reasons why I love you and want to marry you right this minute. You totally get me,” he speaks softly.
“I love you more,” I whisper, wrapping my hand around his forearm. “I don’t care if we get married in the most perfect, beautiful setting, in the middle of a firework catastrophe with all the guest screaming and ducking for cover, or in a hospital room with you wearing a hospital gown and me wearing a half torched, blood, grass-and-jizz-stained dress. I don’t care as long as you still want to marry me and deal with my family and the chaos that follows them for the rest of our lives.”
Our lips move back toward each other and we pause right before they touch, when the door to Sam’s room opens.
“Stop sucking face,” Nicholas complains as he walks through the door. “You know you can’t have sex for like, two days until that miniscule little burn you can only see with a magnifying glass heals, right?”
He laughs at his own joke and Sam flips him off as Alex comes in right on his heels.
“What a coincidence, you can only see Sam’s dick with a magnifying glass!” he smiles, walking around to the side of Sam’s bed.
“Will you people stop talking so loudly, my head is killing me,” Scheva mutters, shuffling into the room with a pair of dark sunglasses on, moving to stand next to Alex. “Noel, I think your dad roofied me and I’m a little concerned that my vagina is sore.”
Alex flings his arm around Scheva’s shoulders and pulls her against him.
“Reggie did indeed roofie you, but the sore vagina is all me. I’d just like to state that you were two seconds away from gang-banging all of the guests and I did what I had to do to stop you from making that terrible mistake, by letting you ride just one dick this afternoon. You’re welcome.”
Scheva drops her head to Alex’s shoulder with a sigh and Sam’s small hospital room gets even smaller when my dad, mom, and Aunt Bobbie push open the door and all file in, surrounding the bed.
“Bev tells me I need to apologize for any part I played in what happened today,” my dad mumbles under his breath, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stares down at Sam. “I’m sorry my wife invited Fat Ralph to the wedding, and I’m sorry that stupid sack-of-shit touched my firework display and ruined my chances of securing the title of neighborhood firework king.”
Mom sighs and glares at him.
“Hey, that’s the best I can do. It’s been a very traumatic day for me,” he tells her, turning back to look at Sam. “We can just call it even. I’ll refrain from cutting off your dick, seeing as how you suffered enough by almost burning the damn thing off.”
Dad tries to hide a chuckle, but is unsuccessful, which earns him a side-eye glare from me and my mother. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t say anything and instead, wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him on the bed.
“Alright, are we ready to do this thing?” Nicholas asks, moving to the foot of the bed and looking between me and Sam.
We both nod and he clasps his hands in front of him.
“You want the short version, correct?”
Sam and I look at each other and smile, my eyes staying locked on his when I answer my brother.
“As short as possible, please. You never know when the ceiling will cave in or an earthquake or other natural disaster will hit with all of us in the same room at once.”
Everyone chuckles quietly until Nicholas’s face turns serious and he clears his throat.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together, blah, blah, blah. Sam Stocking, do you?” he asks.
“I do,” Sam replies, my eyes filling with tears at how quickly and confidently he answered.
“Noel Holiday, do you?”
I nod my head, my smile growing wider as I stare into Sam’s eyes.
“I do.”
“By the power vested in me through the interwebs, I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Holiday-Stocking. Quite possibly the cheesiest last name in the history of the world, and I hope to God you don’t hyphen it legally,” Nicholas announces. “Sam, you may now kiss your bride.”
I lean toward Sam, but he pulls his head back before we can kiss.
“Sorry, I know we agreed on the short version, but I just need to say a few things first.”
Moving his arm from around my waist, he presses both of his palms against my cheeks, holding my face in his hands.
“I had an entire page of vows written to say to you, but they were in my pocket and burned when my dick caught on fire,” he tells me with a small smile.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” my father mutters with a laugh from the side of the bed in his horrible British accent.
My mother smacks him upside the back of his head, and Nicholas hands her a box of Kleenex from the table behind him when she sniffles as Sam ignores everyone in the room, keeps his eyes on mine, and continues.
“So, here’s the short version of my vows. I love you because of your family, not in spite of them. I love you because for the first time in my life, I actually have a family even if they’re crazy, and you gave that to me, Noel. You love me more than I ever thought anyone would and you gave me a family,” he whispers, wiping a tear that falls down my cheek with his thumb. “I will happily deal with our family and the chaos that follows them for the rest of my life, because you are worth every messy, loud, insane, firework to the dick moment. I love you, Mrs. Holiday-Stocking, more than anything.”
I sigh, along with every woman in the room, lifting my hands and pressing them against Sam’s that continue to cradle my face.
“That was so much better than what I wrote. My vows didn’t go up in flames, but I think I left them back at the hous
e when I got distracted by fanning my vagina and then you distracted me even more when you pushed me against the wall and unloaded all that pent up—”
“Stop!” My dad interrupts me, his hands flying up to cover his ears. “I’m not allowed to threaten his life anymore now that he finally bought the cow and can get milk whenever he damn well pleases, but that doesn’t mean I won’t lose my shit all over this hospital and make a spectacle of myself if you talk about it right in front of me!”
I roll my eyes when my father finishes with a huff and crosses his arms in front of him, choosing not to make a comment about how he referred to me as a cow. Again.
“Fine, short and clean version,” I quickly continue. “I loved you from the first moment I met you in that airport bar at Christmas. I loved you for making me want to get married when I always thought it was something I never wanted. I loved you for making me realize I only thought I didn’t want it, just because I’d never met the right person. You’re my right person, Sam. I loved you even when I went crazy and refused to move in with you because I thought we didn’t know each other well enough to take that step. I loved you for proposing to me a second time because I went crazy and thought the first one didn’t count.”
My mother blows her nose loudly and I lean toward Sam, pressing my forehead against his. I continue with the rest of what I want to say as fast as I can before I start ugly crying.
“I loved you when I thought your penis would never work again and I knew I’d love you forever even if that turned out to be true. I loved you when I thought my family was killing you with high blood pressure and I went crazy trying to keep you calm and relaxed. I loved you every time we were stupid and didn’t talk about our feelings or problems and it made us both crazy. I loved you even when I sat in your pee and threw a pee-covered toilet seat at your head.”