Ok, ladies and gents. Decided to make a prequel to The Morning After because I enjoyed writing it. Good morning, and belated Merry Christmas. Just another day in the life of me. 🙂
The room fills with a cacophony of deafening sounds of elation and utter frustration. Only 3 points down and 13 yards from a touchdown, the Atlanta Falcons threw an interception, with the San Francisco 49ers’ linebacker returning a touchdown. You would think that a tyrannical dictator ruled within the walls of that specific Buffalo Wild Wings restaurant, and the citizens were finally raising their voice in support of a coup d’etat. The citizens, however, included the crew you were with. Loud, obnoxious, and ignorant most often than not. Good lord I missed them, and tonight we were having a night like the good ‘ole days.
Tonight though, you gave your wife your word that this night would be her night, and nothing less. Without notice, your friends, who are spread across the United States, happen to converge in your city during Christmas. It has been a very long time since we all got together, and moments like this are becoming rare. At least, thats how you appealed to your wife’s empathetic side, otherwise you would not be here. It was not the approaching waiter, but the smell of Asian Zing-flavored chicken wings that brings you back to reality. In that moment of alertness, your mouth unexpectedly secretes more saliva than it needs. It vividly reminds you of her, and you slip into your most memorable, sexually intoxicating fantasies. Again, you’re brought back to reality by the beckoning of your friends discussing how you found Roy passed out drunk behind IHOP. “No. Passed out drunk with his face planted nicely in his own vomit behind IHOP,” you corrected. Everyone laughs more at Roy than with him.
You were hoping the night would transition into an epic one like old times, but as the night lingers, it seems unlikely. “I’m a bit disappointed. I don’t think there will be a spontaneous drunken adventure”, you text your wife. As you wait for her response, Roy mentions the many rules he had to abide by in the Navy. “But some rules are meant to be broken, and my dear sir I chose wisely” he said with a suspicious grin. Living in an all male ship, and only docking every two months, it’s pretty obvious he is trying to relieve certain frustrations when breaking those rules.
Your wife responded, and apparently she’s feeling the christmas spirit. “I’m worried that Santa won’t leave me a present under the tree because of all the naughty things we’re going to do tonight. ”
You’re sure your pants just got a bit tighter, and from the looks of it she’s expecting you home early now. I guess we won’t be able to go to church tomorrow morning.
The football game’s winners have been revealed, reliving past stories has exercised the lungs, and the rounds of beers has settled into our system. The night is showing its end, at least for the crew. Hugs, handshakes, and kisses are exchanged to finalize the night. A little more laughs from ratchet comments had to be said before we finally departed, otherwise saying byes wouldn’t feel right.
“Just left Bdubs, honey” you texted her, but no response.
20 minutes later, you open the door to your apartment and she’s provocatively standing there half naked, waiting for you. Your wife is dressed up as one of Santas little elfs, …with minor improvements. All Pink-Black everything, from top down. The Santa hat, the laced bra and panties, and the striped stockings were all pink and black. Your favorite color combo. You give her that infamous Obama approval look, letting your wife know that you’re fully aware you married a good one.
You may yet still have a spontaneous drunken adventure it seems. Egg nog in her left hand. Jack Daniels in her right hand. A missile toe hanging from the buckle of her belt. You recall what Roy said about breaking rules, but the Missile Toe rule is one you will happily abide by. Your mouth waters once more, and you decide to lubricate your lips. Not that you need to for what’s about to happen. You then shut the door. “The neighbors don’t need to know my name.”