The Weekend...Part II

The next thing I remember is that we’re at the Sin Bin because it’s right across the street from the Cave. The blonde texts me asking if we’re still at JG Mellon’s. I text her the new address and the next thing I remember is the three girls walking through the door. I don’t know how long we were there but I found the following text messages sent from my phone the next morning…..

In response to a text from AT:

I fuckfdsome Midwest whore. whag time is it. Am or pm. Should I be at work?
I honeatly didn’t kbow. What day os it. Im fucked.

In response to a text from Pink:

I sprayed in her puss timea!!!!

I do remember putting on Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” at the Sin Bin and going absolutely nuts. That’s it. From that point we all magically appeared in the Cave. We were hanging out and at one point the blonde and I headed into the bathroom to fuck again.

I’m trying to get off but it’s taking forever. My penis is disintegrated at this point. As I got close I remember her telling me, “Don’t cum inside me. I’m not on the pill.”

Argh?!?!?!?

You’re about a day late, honey. I unleashed the hounds inside this girl several times and now she tells me? I quickly forget about the fact that I might be a father already and finish on her stomach. I blacked out and the last thing I recall of her was getting dressed and kissing me goodbye.

When I woke up for work shortly after her leaving, I surveyed the scene with Ritters. We tried to piece the weekend together but struggled. My shoulder was burning so walked into the bathroom and checked out the mirror. There was a baseball-sized, purple bruise with a chunk of skin ripped from the middle of it on my shoulder blade.

I head into the office and am horrified and what may or may haven’t happened from Saturday afternoon to Tuesday morning. An email comes through from Ritters:

Dude, you realize the long term ramifications of this weekend…Her and the Chin broke up….you’re a father….and I’m definitely getting kicked out of my building.

Shit. I forgot about the whole father thing. I decide to shoot a text to the blonde.

In a world of hurt. U might want to take plan B. I was extremely drunk Sunday night and cant remember everything. I may not have been thinking clearly and its got me nervous.

She writes back:

I’m in total pain!

Had to figure out what you’re talking about. You have no idea how difficult it was for you to have an orgasm. I must have spent 30 minutes to finally make it happen not during sex.

Wait a minute, did I get a half hour long blow job and can’t remember it? Fuck. That would be one of the bigger let downs of my life.

But I can if it would make you feel better. Can you get it over the counter now?

My phone goes dead. Please no. This is a joke, right? My phone never dies. Of all the times it does, it’s when I’m trying to have my potential child aborted? Come on, man! I stop to think for a second. I wonder if I can file suit against LG to pay for child support for having a phone battery with bad timing. My car is in the city. I ponder how long it would take me to reach the Mexican border. I’m guessing four days. I’d probably want to make a bunch of stops on the way. What about changing my phone number? Nah, she’d still probably be able to find me. Plus my phone number is pretty sick.

I email JV and Ritters:

Seriously, what should I do?

Ritters writes back:

Pray…

By the time I get home from the city and get my phone charged it’s about 9pm. I look through the phone and find a picture of Ritters sitting on a motorcycle with a bag full of wine bottles and he looks like he’s falling off. What in the hell?

I check my messages and they start coming in at rapid fire. Her name pops up on a message she sent at 3:17pm. I open it and it reads:

Ok just bought it. Feel better.

I write back:

My bad. Phone died this morning. Nice.

I felt the situation justified the “Nice”. She may have not because she never responded and still hasn’t. Here’s hoping I’m sterile.