Hey buddy. I know it’s tough out there, standing in the hall. Time really slows down, huh? I bet you never thought you’d be like this, standing in a hallway, damp, waiting in your horrible cheap sandals that you suddenly realize you’ve had these very sandals for nearly five years, only purchased because you were on a vacation in Yellowstone and decided that the risk of athlete’s foot was bad enough that you’d rather stop at a dollar store and buy some shit sandals than shower barefoot.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re oscillating between wondering what the hell is taking those kids so long and looking forward to getting home and taking a shower because that’s fifteen minutes you can keep to yourself.
Sometimes you just sit on the toilet with the shower running, don’t you. Is it because you are too depressed to shower or because if you don’t shower you have a good excuse to not be intimate with your wife and possibly create another one of these hellmonsters?
Well, I don’t have answers for the one, but I have answers for the other.
The boys you left in there to fend for themselves are running circles around the small island of benches, eating Fritos. They are more horrible than you think, and when they emerge you will be shocked to find that you dislike the group of them with a more fervent passion than you remembered just minutes ago.
There is no reason it should take a group of young boys longer to get dressed than it does a full grown dad. You have a wallet. You have keys. If you’re self-respecting at all, you have some kind of watch. Kids are wearing shit shorts and t-shirts that explain to you that they are trouble and here they come.
I know you don’t really want to just stand around while kids are getting nude. Or maybe you do and the reason you’re standing outside is to remove yourself from a situation of such intense attraction. Either way, as much as you don’t want to be in there, I don’t want to be in there worser.
So, I’m going to give you two options:
1. Get your shit together, stand up to a group of adolescents, one of whom you created, and let them know that they need to get the goddamn hell out of there before you start screaming at your son in front of all his friends and ruin not only this sleepover, but the possibility of every subsequent sleepover.
2. Kill yourself and use your life insurance money to sign your wife up for eHarmony so that she can find a man with some guts.