Authors: TJ Klune
“I’m
so
sorry!” Vince said, even though he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “Here, have a napkin. Have a bunch.” I felt a handful of napkins press into my hands and I grabbed them and started rubbing them over my face, which immediately hurt my nose and cheek.
“You can’t say stuff like that,” Vince scolded.
“Obviously,” I snapped at him. “I’ll never say that I’m going to suck your cock again because apparently you throw citric
acid
in my face!”
And then I heard a tinny voice coming from his direction. Sandy said,
“Paul, back up just a little bit so I can get the whole area behind you.”
“Like this?”
I heard myself say.
“You’re watching the video?” I yelled at him, still unable to see. I knew right then what it must have felt like to be Helen Keller. Well, except for the deaf part. Whatever. We were both American heroes for what we had to put up with.
“Well, yeah,” he said as if I was stupid. “You
fell
. Into a
hippo
exhibit. Of
course
I’m going to watch it.”
“Can you stand up on that metal part?”
Sandy asked as the video resumed. I tried to place a curse on Vince so that his face would melt, but then I remembered I didn’t know any curses and that curses weren’t a real thing, unless you were me and had lemon water thrown at your eyes.
“Probably. Give me a second. You know what? I don’t really understand the point of hippos.”
“They are definitely God’s mysteries. They’re pretty ugly too. Not so high, Paul. You’ll fall in. Be careful.”
“I won’t fall in. I know how to keep my balance. I’m not
that
big of an idiot. Have a little—Waaaaaaaaaaauuuuuughhhhh!”
A great splash.
Sandy screaming:
“Paul! Paul! Oh my God! Someone save my friend! He’s dying! Oh Saint Janet Jackson, Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty! He’s drowning in fetid hippo water!”
“Sandy!”
“Paul!”
“The hippos are going to eat me! They’re going to eat me because I look so big and delicious! I don’t want to die!”
A helpful bystander:
“I think hippos are herbivores.”
The zoo tour guide:
“Actually, they’re omnivores. What you also might not know is that hippos are responsible for more human deaths in Africa than any other animal. They can sometimes even resort to cannibalism.”
The tour group:
“Ohhhhhhhhh.”
Sandy, shrieking:
“You’re standing there giving a lecture on
hippos
? Are you out of your fucking
mind
! My friend is going to be eaten!”
Me, in the background:
“Pretty sure a hippo just shit in the water! I’d really like to get out of here now! Hello? Somebody?”
Tour guide:
“Sir, please stop kicking and flailing your hands! You are attracting the hippos to you! Take a deep breath and calm down!”
Me:
“You fucking calm down! If I get eaten, I swear to Christ I will sue your asses off!”
Sandy, murmuring:
“He won’t sue you. At least I don’t think he will. Love those shorts, by the way.”
Tour guide, grinning:
“Yeah? I always thought they were too short, but we’re required to wear them. Gives me a pretty good tan, though.”
Helena, purring:
“Oh? And how high does that tan go, Mr. Zoo Man?”
Tour guide, voice husky:
“Pretty high up. I like to lay out sometimes with the zebras when no one’s looking. Naked. My name’s Jerry, by the way.”
Me, splashing loudly:
“Sandy! Oh God, Sandy! I think I got some of the hippo shit water in my mouth! Call the fire department! Call the army! Send big guns! I don’t want to die! There are still so many things I need to do! I always wanted to learn to line dance!”
Helena, ignoring me completely:
“Jerry, huh? That’s a hot name.”
Jerry, the bastard:
“Yeah? What’s say we get out of here later and you can show me how hot it can be?”
Helena:
“Oh, Jerry. You can’t even begin to imagine the things my tongue can do. I’m going to wrap my lips around your—”
Me, screaming:
“Are you
flirting
?
Seriously?
Oh my fucking God, Sandy! I will fucking
murder
you! The hippos are getting in the water! Get laid another fucking time!”
Jerry:
“Guess I better go rescue your friend. Wait for me here?”
Helena, sighing:
“My hero. I’ll count the seconds until your return. Paul? Paul! Jerry’s going to come down and save you! Isn’t he just so awesome?”
Me, outraged:
“Jerry?
Jerry?
You’re already on a first-name
basis
? You fucking whore! This is all your fault!”
Sandy, returning:
“Paul, Jerry says you need to keep quiet so the hippos don’t eat you. I’d listen to him since he is obviously a consummate professional.”
Me:
“Fuck Jerry! Fuck hippopotamuses! Fuck the fucking zoo!”
Sandy, smirking:
“Paul, there’s a piece of hippo shit floating near your mouth.”
Me:
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The video ended.
“Paul?” Vince said, his voice neutral.
“Yes, Vince?” I still hid behind the napkins even though my eyes were no longer filled with lemon water.
“Remember when you were taking me home from the hospital a few days ago and you thought I was just really stoned and you were talking about your period ghost and I said I thought I was going to fall in love with you?”
I thought he hadn’t even remembered saying that. “Yes, Vince, I remember.” And I did. It wasn’t something I thought I was ever going to forget. Not for as long as I lived. I was pretty sure he was going to retract that comment pretty damn quickly.
He took a deep breath. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m about halfway there now.”
I lowered the napkins from my face and stared at him. He looked uncharacteristically flustered and couldn’t quite meet my eyes. His cheeks pinked a bit. “You just watched a YouTube video of me falling into a hippo exhibit at the zoo and swallowing hippo-shit water and now you’re halfway to being in love with me after knowing me for only a few days?”
He nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“Oh sweat balls,” I said. But I reached out and grabbed his hand.
He grinned and squeezed my hand back.
And that would be a great place to end the first date, right? That declaration, the knowledge that I’d swam with hippos, that Santiago might or might not have put pubes in the food that would come later. It’s magical! It’s wonderful! So very, very romantic! Nothing could make it better!
Nope.
“Paul!” my mother shouted from behind me on the street. “Yoo-hoo! Paul, dear! It’s me, your mother! Your father is with me too! Paul! Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Larry, I don’t think he can hear me. I’m practically screaming his name. Maybe he’s going deaf.”
“You aren’t
practically
doing anything,” my father said mildly. “I’m pretty sure they can hear you down in Mexico.”
“Lawrence Auster,” she scolded. “What a mean thing to say.”
“Just… ignore them,” I ground out to Vince.
“Are they your parents?” he asked, looking over my shoulder. “They look like that picture you have in your bedroom.”
“When I say so, get ready to run, okay?” I whispered harshly. “On three.”
“What? We’re not running.”
“One—”
“Yoo-hoo, Paul!”
“Two—”
Vince waved over my shoulder at my parents.
“Three!” I got up and started running, but Vince didn’t let go of my hand. Apparently his muscles were quite real and Vince was just a tad bit stronger than me. I only made it two steps toward the exit before I was jerked back to the table. Vince spun me around neatly so that I landed on his lap, my back to his chest. To give him credit, he didn’t even cry out in massive pain as my bulk landed on him, surely crushing him to dust, especially given how sore he still must have been. I was too shocked at this sudden turn of events to even feel remotely sorry, given that he was a traitor along the lines of my dog.
“You can’t run away from your parents,” he admonished lightly. “It’s rude.”
“I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore,” I told him, quite sure of myself.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do. I make you so fucking happy.”
“Gross. You do not,” I mumbled, doing my damnedest to ignore that little glowing light in me.
Matty and Larry Auster were very curious by this sudden turn of events, watching the two of us closely as they walked up the sidewalk toward us. I tried to move off Vince’s lap, but he wrapped his arm around my waist and gripped me tightly, his point very clear. It probably didn’t help things when I wiggled in his lap to get more comfortable and felt his dick against my ass. He groaned just once, and it was quiet, but it was enough to make me freeze as his cock hardened while my parents were standing two feet away.
“Paul,” Dad said in greeting, looking amused. “Nice to see you, son.”
“Dad,” I managed to say. “Mom.”
My mother’s eyes sparkled. “Paul, what a surprise this is!”
“Oh no. Not a surprise. I’m pretty sure this is God fucking with me,” I told her.
“Language!” my father frowned.
“Sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t sorry in the slightest.
“Hello,” my mother said over my shoulder. “I’m Matty Auster, and this is my husband, Larry. We’re Paul’s parents.”
“Nice to meet you,” Vince said cheerfully. He very smartly extended the hand that was not wrapped around my waist, knowing that if he let go I would use that time to escape. To exact my revenge, I flexed my ass against his lap and felt him shudder underneath me. To his credit, his voice was only a little tight when he shook my parents’ hands and said hello. “I’m Paul’s boyfriend, Vince Taylor,” he said, squeezing me again.
Goddammit.
“Boyfriend?” Dad said, sounding perplexed. “Paul, you never mentioned anything about a boyfriend.”
“It’s a new thing,” I said as I blushed.
“At least fifteen minutes now,” Vince agreed.
“Fifteen minutes?” Mom said. “That’s fifteen minutes longer than anyone else.”
“Mom!” I hissed.
“Well, it’s true, dear. You don’t normally have boyfriends, though for the life of me I can’t understand why. I think you’d make the perfect partner to a nice man.”
“Oh, he does,” Vince said.
“What happened to that guy that Sandy said you spit on last weekend?” Dad asked. “I thought you were going to try and get with that?”
I groaned. “Dad? Do me a favor. Never say ‘get with that’ ever again. You’ve just fried my brain. And you guys really need to stop talking to Sandy.”
Dad looked over at Mom. “How else am I supposed to say it?”
Mom shrugged. “Maybe you were supposed to say ‘make love to.’ You know Paul is secretly a romantic at heart. Once you get past that icy cold exterior it’s like his insides are made of marshmallow fluff. You remember those letters we found that he’d written to Zack Morris from
Saved By The Bell
? I’d never read such beautiful love poems. Paul has such as sweet way with words.”
“Oh right,” Dad said. “How did that one go? ‘Hark! And behold/Your love is but my soul/Us together would be like the greatest art/I would give you the world and my heart/How I wish I knew thee well/Oh, Zack Morris! From
Saved By The Bell
.’”
“I didn’t write that,” I told Vince hastily as he laughed at me. “That was my twin brother named Toby who died under suspicious circumstances when we were twelve. My parents deny he ever existed, but he’s the one that wrote love poems to fictional characters.”
“Paul, really,” my mother sniffed. “You didn’t have a twin brother. My uterus wouldn’t have survived another one of you coming out.”
“See?” I whispered to Vince. “I told you.”
“You wanted to make love to that guy you spit on?” Vince said, sounding positively gleeful. “And you already told your parents about it?”
Of
course
he was still stuck on that. “I never said those words!”
“I’m the guy he spit on,” he told my parents.
“Technically, I spit on the twinkie barback,” I reminded him.
“It was meant for me,” he said, absolutely sure.
“Oh, that is so lovely!” my mother said, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Certainly an interesting beginning,” Dad said.
Apparently, Vince had no problem with meeting parents because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up. “This is our first real date, even though I consider it our second, or maybe our third.”
“Your first date?” my mother exclaimed. “How wonderful! And you brought him—”
“Are you guys
finally
ready to order yet?” Santiago interrupted.
“My wife was talking,” Dad told him sternly. “It’s not polite to interrupt, young man.”
Santiago rolled his eyes. “All I want to do is my job.”
“We’re not ready,” Vince told him as Santiago glared at me sitting on his lap. “I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Whatever,” the waiter said, spinning on his heels and going back inside.
“Well, he was a rude little bitch, wasn’t he?” my mother said. I grinned at her.
“Language!” Dad snapped at her, but I could see his mouth quirking at the sides.
“He was trying to get in Vince’s pants,” I told them, only because I tell them pretty much everything. Well, some things.
My mother narrowed her eyes as she glared inside the restaurant. “Is that
so
? He looked like the type. Little floozy. I hope you saw right through that, Vince.” Her voice was hard, as if daring him to contradict her.
“I did,” Vince assured her. “I have a one-man heart.”
Oh Jesus Christ.
“That is so sweet,” my mother said, wiping her eyes.
“Why do you have a black eye?” my father asked me suspiciously, reaching over to turn my face so he could see it better. I’d totally forgotten about it.