Did I mention we were moving? Yeah, as soon as we graduate from UTEP we're getting the heck out of Dodge. Did I mention we were graduating from college? I think I did. That's why Kate's packing up. You would think she'd have furniture or something, but she's got nothing but books.
Kate, meanwhile, is tying to find out all about my weekend with Christian.
"So," Kate says to me, weaselly, "did he mention my name?"
"I can't tell you," I tell her.
"Did he do the nasty?"
"I can't tell you.'
"Did he mention my name while he was doing the nasty?"
"I said I can't tell you. I..." I am almost ashamed to admit it. "I... signed a contract. A confidentiality agreement."
"You signed a confidentiality agreement?" she sputters. "How... how... romantic. I remember when I signed my first confidentiality agreement. It was for my father."
My jaw hits the floor, bounces back up, and smacks me in the eye.
"Your father?" I exclaimed, rubbing my eye.
"Oh, calm down. It's not what you're thinking."
"Well... that depends on what you're thinking."
I couldn't tell her the truth, but I had to tell her something. She has that kind of power over me. The kind of power where, if she asks me a question, I answer. So I say, "He wanted me to give him a toe job. He called it getting off on the right foot."
The whole uncomfortable conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door. It's Jose.
"OMG, girlfriend," he lisps. "Where have you been? I had a terrible accident last night and I needed a friend who could keep a secret."
"An accident? Osh kosh by gosh, Jose. What happened?"
"I sat on a cucumber by accident. Seven times! I needed someone who could take it out and not tell anybody. So I called Kate."
Kate? Holy smokes. I look at her, my eyes as big as saucers. It's a medical condition.
"It wasn't me," she clarifies.
"So... what did you do?" I ask Jose.
"Kate was kind enough to send over a midget friend of hers. It worked out for the best, because, if he tells, no one will believe him anyway. Nobody ever believes anything a midget says. Just ask Dave Attell."
That's the first I've heard about it. I look at Kate. She's nodding in agreement.
"That's true," she confirms.
"So... what happened?"
"He took out the cucumber and now we're going on a romantic cruise. In fact, I just got back from the pharmacy. I get sea-sick, so I went there to buy some Viagra and Dramamine. Can you believe the pharmacist told me, 'Son, if it makes you sick, then why do you do it?'"
So... how did my life ever get so out of control? Ever since Christian Grey entered it, I feel like I've been on a roller coaster of emotion in an amusement park of confusion in a city of turmoil in a state of bewilderment in a country of distraction in a world of perplexity in a universe of consternation.
I turn back to Kate.
"You're missing the point," Kate tells Jose. "Enquiring minds want to know: how do you remove a cucumber?"
Jose goes into a detailed explanation that includes a pair of tongs, a turkey baster, and some cherry-flavored oven mitts. Thankfully, they're so caught up in the mechanics of cucumber retrieval, they've forgotten all about me.
Speaking of forgotten I look at my hand and see the large manila envelope I'm holding. I'm only mentioning it now because my editor says I really need to eat up some pages.
"Just write whatever piece of crap comes into your head," he told me. "It doesn't matter how outrageous it is. By the way, did you know that Bob Dylan once rhymed outrageous with contagious? That man's a genius. Like me."
I tear open the envelope and look inside.
Another contract for me to read and sign? If I wanted to read, I would have gone to a better college.
Just ask Dave Attell.
Fifty Shades of Satire