"Two pumps!" Carter said excitedly, followed by more laughing.
Max just stood there with a befuddled look on his face.
Then Carter raised his arm and pointed at him, still laughing, I might add.
"You're the chump!"
"Oh Jesus," I muttered.
"What?" Max asked.
Carter was smiling like nut job.
"Nothing," I told Max. "Don't mind him."
"Where's her underwear?" Carter asked, suddenly serious.
Max's son started kicking his little legs around in an attempt to get down. He hefted him up higher in his arms and gave me a smile.
"Well, I better get going. It was good seeing you again, Claire. Good luck with the store," he said as he moved to the door and used his back to push it open.
"Could you say that TWO more times," Carter laughed.
I smacked his arm as Max lifted his hand in a wave.
Carter waved good-bye to him, shaking his hand in the air frantically like he was a little kid watching a parade.
"Come back again!" Carter shouted as Max got out the door and onto the sidewalk. "Claire likes it when people stay more than TWO seconds."
Max finally disappeared out of sight and Carter turned to face me, a lingering smile still on his face.
"What?" he asked when he saw the look on mine.
"When you're ready to start acting like an adult, let me know," I told him.
"Adults are the little ones, right?" he shouted to me as I walked away.
I shook my head as I made my way to the counter. Just then my dad walked back over from Liz's side with a black bag clutched firmly in his hand.
Oh sweet Jesus, my brain couldn't handle anymore crazy today. .
We stopped in front of each other and he tried to hide the bag behind his back.
"Dad, did you just buy something from Liz's store?" I asked bewilderingly.
What in the f**k of f**kery would he need from over there? WHAT? Oh God, where's Jim? I need his eye bleach.
"Well, I've got a date tonight," he stated matter-of-factly.
"So take her some chocolates! Or a box of cookies. I'm pretty sure what's in that store isn't first-date material," I said in a panic.
There could be flavored lube in that bag right now. Or a c**k ring. Or a strap on. Oh sweet mother f**king Jesus, what if’s been so long since my dad has been with a woman that he bat for the other team now? Nothing against g*y men. I love g*y men. I had a g*y friend in college that I wish I still kept in contact with. He liked to show me the awesome g*ydar he possessed by pointing out every g*y man within a two mile radius. What would he say if he was here right now? "Oh, Claire, that man is g*yer than Richard Simmons sweatin' to the oldies on a rainbow."
When I took Gavin to the library last week there was a book called "Daddy's Roommate" in the children's section. Should I go back and get that book? Maybe I should buy a copy for future reference. There was also a book called "I Wish Daddy Didn't Drink So Much" and "It Hurts When I Poop."
What the f**k has happened to children's literature since I was little?
I knew no matter what, I would love my father. That was a fact. To quote my favorite movie, "I love my dead, g*y son!"
Well, I love my dead, g*y father. Er, I mean my g*y father.
I need a drink.
"Never fear, Mr. Hunt is here!" Drew proclaimed as he walked through the door holding Jenny's hand. My dad raised his eyebrow at Drew's shirt that read, "Jam out with your clam out."
"Hey there, Mr. M, how's it hanging?" he asked as he walked over and shook my dad's hand.
It's hanging a little to the left of Perez Hilton Avenue.
"Oooooh, look at you already sampling the merchandise," Drew said, patting my dad on the back in a congratulatory way as he smiled at the black bag still tightly clutched in his hands.
"Claire, the store looks great!" Jenny told me as she gave me a quick hug.
"Thanks, my dad has a roommate," I blurted.
All three of them looked at me in silence.
"Mommy, can I have another cookie?" Gavin asked, running up to me and slamming into my leg.
"No, no more cookies. You already had a chocolate chip cookie. Obviously it wasn't enough for you and now you want to try a different one. I bet you want to try a peanut butter cookie which is the exact opposite. Peanut butter cookies are on a different team than chocolate chip cookies. I guess chocolate chip cookies just don't satisfy you anymore do they? One day you just woke up and decided you wanted to eat a completely different cookie from the one you've always liked since you were born. You can't just decide at your age that you want a different cookie. It doesn't work that way. You pick a cookie and you stick with it!"
Gavin looked up at me in confusion. His poor four-year-old brain was probably going to explode.
"Fine, can I have a chocolate sucker then?" he asked innocently.
I was well aware that no one was moving and they were all standing there looking at me like I was having a nervous breakdown. Maybe I was. I had a g*y father; I was allowed to freak out.
"Hey, Mom, guess what? Last night Papa was kissing somebody," Gavin said with a smile.
Oh God, here it comes. Who was it? Bill from the hardware store? Tom from the corner coffee shop? Who would be my new step-father-in-law-uncle-friend?
"Gavin, that was supposed to be a secret," my dad laughed uncomfortably.
