The bar I was working at unexpectedly burnt to the ground. I don’t know if Rachel had anything to do with it, but she was under the impression I owned it. Maybe the old hood rat from prison came barreling out and she burned the shit to the ground? I thought about suggesting her as a suspect, but figured it wasn’t the best way to get back in her life. Plus, I didn’t even own the bar in the first place so what the fuck did I care if it went up in flames? I was able to get a job as a night auditor at a nearby hotel. This is a great job for a loser like me because you really don’t do anything but sit at the front desk twiddling your thumbs and answering the occasional phone call.
It wasn’t but weeks until Rachel walked back in my life. God must have really wanted us to be together because he kept smashing our paths into each other. This time she needed a hotel room for a client and I just so happened to be working the front desk. Rachel was generally surprised to see me and when I asked how were things she dropped the bomb on me. Apparently she was pregnant and yours truly being the father.
I’d done it!
This bitch was mine! I wanted to quit my job right there on the spot. The only problem being she still held a grudge against me and was very reluctant to let me back in her life. Rachel had convinced herself I was no good and still teetering the idea of abortion. Typically I’m very pro choice, but this case I wanted that fucking baby. That little grubby bastard was my free meal ticket out of this hell hole. It would be just like the Michael Keaton movie Mr. Mom where I stay at home all day having outrageous adventures with the kids while Mommy’s off making the money. I could already picture the vacuum cleaner chasing me and the kids down the hallway. The only problem being Rachel had different ideas because after telling me she was pregnant, she confirmed the fact I wasn’t included. I imagined her topless while telling me this. Maybe Rachel would stick around and even watch a movie with me in one of the vacant rooms. I’ll bone down with a pregnant girl. Can you imagine how good it would feel to have a set of tiny hands massaging the head of your penis while inside a vagina? Good luck lasting more than five seconds. I can barely last five minutes without the gnome hands. I told Rachel we should sit down and have a serious conversation about this pregnancy.
“It’s my baby, too!” I told her.
I love it when men say that like they actually give a shit. Men are pigs. I bet if you could somehow make a graph showing the number of blow jobs during in a typical relationship, that number would be a lot higher during a pregnancy. While most men won’t plug their chick with a fat baby gut they’ll still insist the pregnant bitch suck their dicks. Men are assholes. A woman could be on her death bed with both her arms and legs chopped off from a bloody car accident with tubes down her nose and her husband would still ask for a quick blow job before she checks out.
The plan was for Rachel to come by the condo in the morning. Well, around 3pm because that’s morning to me. I was going to somehow convince this pregnant cooze I was worth spending the rest of her life with. Before she left I asked if she wanted to make out in the conference room. Rachel declined and said she would see me tomorrow. After she left I spent most of the evening trying to decide if I wanted to eat at the Chart House for dinner tomorrow night, or head up to Hollywood for a fancy meal at whatever swanky location Miranda Kerr was chilling out at.
Rachel can afford it and like she said showed up in the morning.
But the thing is…
People don’t enjoy carrying the weight of others when it’s so much easier to just kill them. After a little investigating on her part, Rachel now knew I never owned the bar she burnt down or the condo I was practically squatting in. She also knew I was completely swallowed in debt and couldn’t even afford to by myself a vehicle. My whole beach blanket bingo vibe was a sham and she knew it. In fact, Rachel had only come over to inform me this would be the last time I’d ever see her. I was crushed. Not because of the baby, but her wallet. She was keeping the piggy and aborting me. I of course asked her to marry me, but she said no. I asked for child support payments, but she only laughed and stood up.
I was desperate.
While she was making her way to the front door and undoubtedly out of my life forever, I tackled her to the ground. I’m not sure what came over me. I hit her linebacker style right in the ribs, POW! She went down holding her stomach and the fight was on! We were both pulling hair, kicking and screaming, scratching each other with our fingernails and calling the other a “dumb cunt.” I had her by the back of the head and smashed her face in the carpet, “I threw up there last night!” I screamed.
“Does it taste like pruno, bitch?!”
Rachel gagged and struggled for air. The carpet prison wine must have triggered some of her suppressed violent rage because she bucked and squirmed her way out from under me. Before I knew it she viciously attacked my balls and I was being dragged by the hair into the bathroom. I had taken a huge shit before she got there and guess I’d forgotten to flush because in a flash my face was being pushed down in the toilet. She was trying to drown me and this fucking turd was brushing up all over my mouth and nose.
“FLUSH THE DAMN TOILET!” I managed to scream between breaths.
Rachel must have heard me because she lifted my head out of the water and slammed it into the toilet tank.
Fuck!
Then it was straight back in the toilet. This bitch was playing hard ball and I was quickly nearing the point of drowning in my own shit. I panicked and swung my arm out behind me. I must have gotten lucky because it popped her right in the mouth and knocked her back on her ass. I spent the next few minutes wiping the shit off my face and before I knew it she was making a mad dash for the door. I jumped to my feet and chased after her.
“STOP OR I’LL SHOOT!” I screamed.
I didn’t actually have a gun; I was making shit up. It didn’t work and Rachel ran out the front door, down the stairs and jumped in her car. By the time I reached her she had the windows up and all the doors locked. We returned evil stares through the glass and I screamed out “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”
I was totally losing it.
I thought I was the Incredible Hulk and tried punching my fist through the glass. Wrong. The glass didn’t break and my hand hurt like shit. Rachel only laughed and peeled off down the road. In a last ditch effort to catch her attention, I screamed out, “THE JOKES ON YOU BITCH BECAUSE I HAVE AIDS!”
Some of the neighbors had come out by this point and heard what I yelled. I calmly looked at them and said, “I don’t actually have aids, I’m just trying to get her attention.” I explained this as if it were perfectly normal. My hair, shirt and ears were still covered in shit. Rachel was gone and I had no idea where she lived. I figured it was best if I showered before the police arrived. Rachel said she would call the police and was probably already on her cell phone painting me out to be this blood thirsty monster. Well fuck that, I wasn’t taking a shower. When the fuzz arrived I wanted them to see me covered in feces and bleeding from when she smashed my face in the toilet. That bitch was the monster and she had the criminal record to prove it. I wanted her to call the police.
48 hours passed and still no police. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and took a shower. I had to get this shit off my body. Once out and smelling decent again, my Blackberry roared to life on the bed. It was Rachel. She was calm and wanted to talk. Rachel had never called the police and even apologized for sticking my face in the toilet. She wanted peace and love. That mommy shit was oozing out. I was instructed to call a taxi and have them drive me to her apartment in downtown San Diego, she’d pay of course. The address had all kind of zeroes in it so I knew it was fancy. I told her to order a pizza and I’d be there by the time it arrived. What I didn’t know is Rachel and her lawyer boss had come to the conclusion I needed to go. They both figured it would be much easier to murder me than have to deal with my shit for the rest of their lives. They had it all planned out, too.
I was clueless.
