© 2001 Lyle Wilkerson All Rights Reserved

No part of this work may be duplicated or reprinted in any medium without the author's prior permission. Comments and inquiries may be directed to LyleWilkerson@mail.com.

Chapter 4

I decided I should just get in the car and head over to Rob's taking a long, slow route to kill the time rather than goof around the place. I needed to practice on my language for the role of Prince Clayton and figured it would be better to do that alone in the car. If I started walking around talking to myself in Elizabethan English, anyone who heard me, even my parents, would conclude I had gone completely nuts.

I went back into the house to fix Wilbur's supper; it wasn't quite six o'clock yet, but I figured Wilbur wouldn't object to eating a bit early. I picked up his food bowl from the kitchen floor and sat it on the counter. Since it was somewhat of a special day for me I decided Wilbur deserved something special as well. A can of beef chunks with a package of cat food mixed in. Don't ask me why but Wilbur goes ape over cat food. I guess that's just additional proof he's as weird as the rest of the family.

After mixing together the somewhat disgusting conglomeration destined for Wilbur's stomach, I took it to him out in the back yard. Wilbur was preoccupied across the yard, seemingly stalking a squirrel. I whistled and yelled, "Wilbur! Dinner!" That got his attention. Wilbur came bounding across the yard, skidded across the patio to a stop landing on his ass and then scrambling back to his feet poking his nose in his bowl. Wilbur is generally a very polite eater, except when it's cat food and then he gobbles like a pig. As I expected, Wilbur was doing his pig imitation tonight.

Mom looked over at Wilbur and remarked, "You'd think he never got fed around here."

"It's his favorite, Alpo and Tender Vittles."

"Oh," replied Mom. Looking at me she asked, "Why are you feeding him out here?" Wilbur usually dines in the kitchen.

"I just figured he might like dining al fresco tonight, 'tis such a pleasant evening. You and Dad doing anything tonight?"

"Your father is going to be digging in the yard later."

"Digging what?"

"Holes, of course. I bought some flowers while I was out this morning. After supper, Ted and I are going to spend some quality time together planting them."

"You broken the news to him yet?" In one sense, Dad is a typical father; his idea of gardening is to plant things you can eat, like tomatoes.

"No, but perhaps I should before he comes up with alternative plans for the evening," said Mom as she closed her book and stood up.

"Well, I'm off to Rob's. Say bye to Dad for me."

"Bye, dear. Have fun," replied Mom as she was walking back to the house. I loved it; "have fun." If she only knew.

I walked across the yard, through the gate to the driveway, got in my car and pulled away from the house. After settling into the driving routine I began practicing my language skills for the night. After messing around with the words a little bit it got to be fun.

"Forsooth! The apparition of thy stately manhood, so full in blossom, makes me quiver in anticipation." Hey, that is much better than "Man! Great dick you got."

I continued practicing. "With thy kind assent, may I cease uttering phrases upon thine ears and instead employ the mechanisms of my speech to the satisfaction of thy lust?" Not bad for a beginner, Clayton. That sounds a lot sexier than "I wanna hoover down on that raging boner of yours."

Yeah, I could already tell tonight was going to be a lot of fun. I had the concept down so I decided to forget practicing; just go with the flow and let things happen.

And so I did.

Driving can be such a pleasurable experience. Except in Houston. All the rules seem to have been rewritten.

When I took driver's ed, a yellow light meant "caution, slow down." I guesss the rule has been rewritten to mean "oh, shit, yellow light, speed up and get through the damned thing before it turns red."

Doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Jeez, what's the damned fucking hurry?

Why is that asshole not slowing down and blowing his fucking horn? I've got the green light.

Oh, shit! Dad's gonna fucking kill me for messing up the car this way.