Page 61 of That Reunited Feeling

Jesus Christ, these women are terrifying. And as someone who’s had to literally push back gangs of frenzied fans swarming around a band’s moving tour van, that’s saying something.

“You know what, Delia?” Hell, if we’re stuck here, I might as well go all in and play them at their own game. “Think I’ll use a bit of each and have a striped one.”

Maid of Honor shoots me a suggestive eyebrow raise over her shoulder.

“Very creative, Tom,” Delia calls over the two rows of penis head-boppers. “But before we pour the chocolate into the mold, we first need to make the testicles.”

“Oh, I definitely know how I like my balls,” Bridesmaid #1 says.

“Excellent,” Delia says without flinching. “You all have two smaller bowls to your right. One containing a peanut butter filling, the other chocolate truffle. Choose whichever you prefer and roll them into balls that will fit in the scrotum part of the mold.”

“Practice your technique, Katie,” Mother of the Groom says. “You need to keep my son happy for the rest of his life.”

Hannah and I side-eye each other at the exact same moment. This woman is asking Katie to be sure to massage her son’s testicles in a pleasing manner.

“Oh, she already knows how to deliver a good nut suck, don’t you, Katie?” Maid of Honor says.

I was about to spoon out some peanut butter. But not now. I straighten and turn to Hannah. “We have to go.”

“Nope,” she says, rolling a lump of truffle between her palms. “Aren’t you having fun? Getting a littleteste?” She holds up the truffle ball between her thumb and forefinger like I might not get her very amusing joke.

“Does everyone have two balls?” Delia calls out over all the giggling.

“Only him,” Bridesmaids #1 and #2 say at the same time, pointing at me.

According to everyone else in the bachelorette party, that’s the most hilarious thing said by any human ever.

“Howareyour balls coming along, Tom?” Delia asks.

And that one tips Hannah over the edge. She leans forward, gripping the sides of her table, her body shaking. When was the last time she had a good laugh like that? I don’t care that it’s at my expense—it’s worth enduring all the horrendous parts of this evening to see her let go and have fun.

“Almost there, Delia.” I take some peanut butter mixture and rapidly form it into two spherical shapes I refuse to refer to as balls.

“Great. Now pour a little of your chosen chocolate into the scrotum, just to coat the mold. Then drop the balls on top. One in each sack.”

“Did she think someone might try to squeeze two into one if she didn’t specify?” I whisper to Hannah.

“We have no idea what bachelorette-related chocolate disasters she has in her past,” Hannah replies, plopping her truffles onto the layer of chocolate now in her mold.

Delia’s eyes scan the room, checking that we’re all keeping up. “Fabulous. Now take the rest of the melted chocolate and fill up the mold with it. Make sure those balls don’t float away now!”

“Can we make them sag a little more?” Mother of the Bride asks. “I haven’t seen a pair this taut for decades.”

“Mom,” Katie protests. “I don’t need to hear about Dad’s droopy balls.”

“Well, they’re where you came from,” Mother of the Bride retorts, slopping the last of her white chocolate into the mold.

“Everybody done?” Delia asks. There’s a murmur of agreement around the room. And I have to say, my striped effortis working well. I’d be delighted with it if it were shaped like anything else.

“Pick them up carefully and follow me,” Delia says. “We need to let them rest in the fridge for a few minutes or so to chill.”

“To harden, you mean,” Maid of Honor says, glancing at me again.

Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

“Yup, we need to get them all nice and firm,” Mother of the Groom adds with a little too much delight.

I brace myself for a follow-up about how monumental her son’s erection probably is, but thankfully she picks up her mold and follows the others to the back of the shop where Delia is holding the fridge door open.

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