“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mike.”

“Last day before the big weekend. Got plans?”

“Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“We were going to pack a lunch and head to the lake.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It did.”

“Did?”

“Yes. Trudy got called out for work early this morning.”

“At the long weekend. Bullshit.”

“It is.”

“You can hang out with me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Dunno. Pub. Whiskey. Shenanigans.”

“It’s been a while since I did any of those.”

“Me too.”

“You went there last night.”

“So I did. Feels like forever ago. Even longer since you came with me. It’ll be a blast. We can get all sloppy drunk and sing along to the juke box.”

“You can get shot down by every single lady in the bar.”

“We can play darts.”

“You can drunkenly complain about being shot down by every single let at the bar.”

“We order pizza! Greasy pizza with extra onions.”

“At least there will be an excuse.”

“For what?”

“All the single ladies shooting you down.”

“Not out of fear of my dastardly charm? Exceptional good looks? Potent virility?”

“You seem chipper.”

“Chipper?”

“Happy?”

“Why would I ever possibly feel chipper?”

“Got laid. Found someone. Knocked a child’s ice cream out of their hands. Any number of things really.”

“I’ve never done that.”

“Gotten laid? I believe that.”

“No the other.”

“Found someone?”

“Okay, two of the others.”

“So never gotten laid or found someone. Got it.”

“No. I meant the ice cream.”

“So oh for three.”

“I have gotten laid.”

“Likely story.”

“You are mad about the weekend and taking it out on me.”

“I am. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m used to beautiful woman kicking me around.”

“Not the domme again.”

“No. Ish.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Well. She called.”

“And you answered.”

“Texted back after ten minutes. Said I was in the shower.”

“You do that to me.”

“I do that to everyone.”

“Ass.”

“But talking on a phone is so passé.”

“It isn’t.”

“It sort of is.”

“Fine. She called. You texted.”

“We went to dinner.”

“Your cheap ass took her out to dinner?”

“She wanted me to cook.”

“Okay.”

“That would be in one of our apartments.”

“Risky.”

“Risky.”

“So you went out.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It was very pleasant. Like a date.”

“Like a date.”

“Similar.”

“And after dinner?”

“After dinner she went home.”

“Your home.”

“My home.”

“What’s wrong with you? You broke it off when she got too serious yet you play with her emotions.”

“Not her emotions. Other things.”

“Same thing.”

“Oh no. These were definitely not emotions.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do not.”

“You do too.”

“I might.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Are you seeing each other again?”

“Who?”

“You and the domme. Idiot.”

“She is quite intelligent.”

“No. You’re the idiot.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Yeah you’re dating?”

“Yeah. I’m an idiot.”

“Are you dodging my question?”

“Is that a question?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“What? I’m so confused.”

“Me too. Like that summer at the beach when the male models showed up to sunbathe.”

“What?”

“They came on a bus. They were sculpted out of spray tanned marble.”

“You are impossible.”

“Impossibly cute.”

“No.”

“I am. I have been told by a doctor, a priest and a scientist. All concurred. Impossibly cute.”

“Why?”

“Bone structure? Mischievous grin? Pretty eyes? Not sure.”

“No. Why are you like this?”

“I don’t have a good answer for that.”

“Trauma. Deep seated trauma. Only explanation.”

“Seems likely.”

“The Domme?”

“I don’t know her past. But it could apply for her as well.”

“Not the trauma. The dating.”

“Tomato potato.”

“I’m done.”

“So Pub tonight?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a yes.”

“That’s a doubt it.”

“Maybe I can sweeten the deal.”

“How?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“You are just winging it. I don’t want to go out.”

“No. You want to sit online and chat. I feel like I am losing you to your phone.”

“Ridiculous.”

“She says as she taps on the screen.”

“It’s this game I started playing.”

“What game?”

“None of your business.”

“Mona.”

“Mike.”

“What game?”

“Weedfarmer Deluxe.”

“…”

“Don’t judge me. It’s no different than dungeons and virgins.”

“Umm. First, it is dragons. Second,…”

“Go on.”

“I mean, at least I play with real people.”

“So do I. I am in a clan.”

“Racist.”

“What? No. Clan. With a C. Who the fuck would let a black lesbian into the Klan?”

“Affirmative Action?”

“Was that a question?”

“Possibly.”

“I am in a guild, better? And I am a top earner.”

“For a weed farm. Online.”

“Don’t get that tone with me.”

“What tone?”

“That tone. That exact tone. You play games online. Same thing.”

“But you don’t ever want to hang out. Or talk. I miss you.”

“You do not.”

“I do too. Come out with me. For old times sake. The kush can take care of itself for one night.”

“I’m second in charge of the clan.”

“So like Grand Deputy Dragon?”

“Ass. No. I’m the raid coordinator. I set up the raids. We are killing it lately.”

“Uh huh.”

“The tone again.”

“Here. Let’s role play. Ask me to go out tonight.”

“Hey Mona, sexually inappropriate comment here, wanna go out to the bar and watch me strike out with all the ladies?”

“Ouch.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let me do it again.”

“Okay.”

“Hey Mona, sexually inappropriate story that goes on for a long as time. Wanna go to the Pub and watch me strike out all night? Profanity. Profanity. Whaddya say?”

“Not better. But fine. Oh Mike, I can’t. Not tonight my clan in WeedFarmer Deluxe has a raid and I am in charge of coordinating it.”

“Fuck.”

“Right.”

“Oh fuck.”

“I’m second in charge of my clan. So, I need to stay in. This is my life now.”

“What have a I become?”

“It’s not too late. Come to the Pub.”

“I think I have to.”

“I do to.”

“I need to delete this app.”

“You do.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Some deep seated need to succeed at the game to make up for your feelings of spinning your tires in a dead end seeming job. It alleviates the boredom brought on by your fiance having to travel and work so much.”

“Wow.”

“Pure conjecture.”

“What? Sorry. I was lost thinking about how much real money I have spent on this. Like fifty bucks. What did you say?”

“Maybe tonight one of those single ladies won’t shoot me down.”

“Good luck on that.”

“You’ll be my wing man right?”

“And be responsible for you defiling some innocent woman? I think not.”

“Harsh.”

“Honest.”

“Ouch.”

“Right.”

“I’m looking forward to tonight, Moans.”

“You know what? Me too.”

“It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Anything to dull the existential crisis you so eloquently spoke of.”

“You heard that, huh?

“I did. It is true.”

“What can you do?”

“I think I want that baby.”

“My baby?”

“We’ve talked about this. You are just a donor.”

“Maybe a few shots will change your mind. Grrrrrowl.”

“There aren’t enough shots on the planet.”

“You’ll only need one.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Penicillin.”

“You are sickening.”

“Yes I am. But you still love me.”

“God help me, but I do.”

“You’re gonna put my baby gravy in your hoo hah.”

“No.”

“I’m gonna be inside of you.”

“No.”

“Mike and Mona sitting in a tree. I-n-s-e-m-i-n-a-t-i-n-g.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t spell ejaculating then it being run through a centrifuge before…”

“You’ve really researched this.”

“It’s important to you guys.”

“When did you get to be the wise one? I became you and somehow you became an adult.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“No one would believe me.”

“They really wouldn’t.”

“One last hurrah before I’m knocked up.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time this pregnant woman insisted we have sex?”

“No.”

“She was a ways into it. And horny as hell.”

“You didn’t.”

“Any port in a storm…”

“Oh god.”

“So there she is, bouncing on top of me. Breasts swollen. Watermelon like stomach…”

“No more. I said I’d go out. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“The next thing I know, there is a foot pressing out of her stomach…”

“Please stop ”

“Did you ever see that Nightmare on Elm Street where Freddy is pushing through the wall but the wall is like rubber?”

“Oh no. Please stop.”

“It was horrifying. I mean, I kept going. But it was difficult.”

“I need whiskey now.”

“We should just leave early.”

“It is a dead end job, after all.”

“It is indeed.”

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

“You’ve fully become me.”

“You’ll be in me soon enough.”

“Woo hoo!”

“Scientifically.”

“Oh. wooooo.”