Sunday, February 19, 2006

2-19-05 Weddings in Purgatory 4

We’re at the mall, Jess and I. While I’m tripping over children and cracking my skull on the hard concrete floor trying to find the tuxedo rental place, he’s busy mauling the last bit of a cinnamon roll, scoping out the asses of the ever-abundant highschool girls.

Our tuxes are waiting for us and the pimply faced prepubescent teenager running the joint tells us that we should try them on before we leave. Jess goes first, and comes out and does a Marvin Gaye spin and sings--in a horrible falsetto--“Awwwww, sugah!” He grabes the lapels with both hand and says, “I’m gotta get me one of these things. High muthafuckin class. Damn!”

It’s my turn. In front of me is a large mirror. In the mirror is me in my underwear, my cock peeking out of the worn out fly. I tuck it back in. I thought I had muscles at one time. I can’t remember...

I put the tux on and it seems to fit just fine, but as I take the pants off, I notice a stain on the crotch of them. The sickening thought occurs that I’m probably the millionth sorry sack to have worn these things.

I give the pants back to the kid. “There’s a cum stain on these.”

He looks confused. “I’ll get another pair,” he says in a crackly voice. But comes back empty handed, explaining that the only pair they have is an inch shorter in the inseam.

A woman walks by the storefront pushing a small child in a stroller, her raven black hair catches my eye.

I throw the money at the pock-marked kid. “I don’t give a shit, I’ll take them,” I say, barreling out of the store. I walk briskly, following her, fighting the impulses to break out into a full-fledged sprint. In a few minutes I’m only five feet behind.

But then I stop dead in my tracks. What the hell am I doing? Even from behind, this woman doesn’t look anything like her. I feel hollow, like there hasn’t been any progress since the accident, like I’m stuck in purgatory.

I turn around and Jess is there holding our plastic-wrapped tuxedos. He gives me a confused look, but doesn’t say anything. I make no attempt to explain.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say.

I’m lost, I have no idea which way we came in, but I act self-assured and pick a direction and walk anyway...

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I'm a happily married 33 gentleman. My wife Allyson and I have an 11 year old daughter named Veronica.