Page 82 of Flirtasaurus
We push through the revolving doors and out into the spring air. It’s bright, so I slide my sunglasses over my eyes. Or maybe I’m hiding. I don’t know.
We stand face-to-face while he waits for me to speak.
“I… really don’t like going home to visit.”
“So why are you going?”
“Easter Sunday dinner. Big deal in the FitzGerald house. They’re expecting me. Plus, I haven’t seen my niece and nephew in way too long, so…”
“Want company?”
“What do you mean?”
“I could come with you if you want.”
“To my parents’ house?!”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit early in this… whatever this is… to meet the parents?”
“It wouldn’t have to be like that. I’ve been told I’m an excellent buffer in situations like this. Besides, I’m a scientist. Human interaction interests me.”
“Oh, my family is interesting alright!”
“They’d have to be. To have produced you.”
He smiles.
I look at my feet.
“I don’t know…” I hedge.
“Tell me this. How were you planning on getting there?”
“Megabus.”
“MEGABUS!?” He seems horrified.
“Uh, yeah, dude.”
“No. Hell no. You are not taking megabus. Megabus is a den of sorrows on six wheels. A heinous tubular tin can with soiled seats and terrible airflow. A hotbed of motion sickness overrun with foul-smelling fellow passengers, not to mention dangerous drivers and—”
“I got it; I got it. But, whatever. Megabus is what I have.”
“Nope. You’ve got me. I’ll drive you.”
“You have a car?”
“I have a great car! She’s my baby. Name is Vulva.”
“Ex-squeeze me?!”
“I know. It’s weird.”
I definitely need to hear more on this subject.
I continue, “So what you’re saying is you want me to…get inside your vulva?”
