"Pot is the only reason to get married, man." George sat on the cheap folding table by the door, uncomfortable in his black tie and gray slacks. He was the type of guy who only dressed up to avoid jail time. Even his mother’s funeral couldn’t get him out of a ratty Iron Maiden tee shirt. “If anyone tells you different, they’re fuckin’ lyin’.”
"So you’re saying marriage will somehow come with a supply of marijuana?” I mused on the subject for a moment, turning away from the mirror. “Where do I sign up for that?”
"So you’re saying marriage will somehow come with a supply of marijuana?” I mused on the subject for a moment, turning away from the mirror. “Where do I sign up for that?”
“Not dope man…POT. Like an acronym or some shit. You know…”
“No, I really don’t.” I went back to working on my tie. The double Windsor always gave me fits. “Enlighten me.”
“Pussy on tap, dude. C’mon! Why the hell else would you saddle yourself with a bitch? You better put some fuckin’ scripture in the contract for it though. If she’s not contractually obligated to spread her legs, you’ll be fucked…” George paused. “Or not as the case may be.”
“That’s some cynical ass shit,” I said. The knot got fucked up again and I had to start over. “Have you ever heard of love? Family? Partnership? Those are the reasons you get married…not…not POT.”
“Dude, you’ve got to be on pot to buy that public service shit! I’m telling you flat out marriage is only one thing: socially acceptable prostitution and sometimes without the payoff. Shit, give me a three month dry spell of no pussy before I have to wake up to the same ho every morning. Or have the same hussy not only refuse to suck my cock but now she wants me to clean up the house too? I don’t need snatch lorded over me, man. It ain’t right.”
I concentrated on getting the tie right but just as I thought I finished, the length was wrong and the big part in the front barely made it to the middle of my chest. I started over again, letting out a sigh. My wardrobe irritation was compounded by George’s asshole quotient, which seemed to be exceptionally high.
He’d been a prick since high school but a true one...kinda. His theories tended toward the outlandish and whenever he opened his mouth, someone would be offended. He considered himself a great thinker but he confused thoughtful argument for scandalous drivel. Reality TV made a big impact on his moral values…or lack thereof.
“You know you’re my best friend, right?” I looked back at the diagram and folded the big part of the tie over the small.
“Duh, no one else will put up with you.”
“Not entirely true…not entirely the point.” I rolled my eyes. “Here’s the thing, I asked you to be my best man but I might’ve asked someone else if I knew you were going to sit there shit talking marriage hours before I took the vows.”
“Hey, at least it hasn’t happened yet.” George sipped his vodka from a paper cup. Ever classy. “Imagine if I told you this shit after you were done. You’d be fucked, man. You wouldn’t be able to back out. I’m giving you the facts.”
“As you see them, maybe.” I twisted the big part around the tiny knot, preparing for the finale. “I don’t even know where you came up with all this crap. Your parents were happily married for forty-years. Is this from all those coffee house pricks you hang out with? Are they giving you this philosophy?”
“Dude, it’s called common fucking sense. Look it up next to how not to be a dumb fuck.” George shook his head. “My parents were from a different time. People respected each other then. Now, women are raised to be princesses and dudes are a bunch of pussy stomped douche bags with no concept of how to be men. You and me are different but Tracy…”
“Seriously? You’re going to talk shit about my fiancé too?”
“Have you seen the way she eyes shit? She’s a materialistic cunt. You can’t afford her, I can tell you that right now.”
The tie came out crooked and once again, the back was too long. I slapped the wall and felt a burst of pain in my middle finger. It jammed against the concrete, making the joint ache. I clenched my fist and my teeth, trying to calm down but between the fucking tie and George, I felt my temper slipping.
“I’ve lived with Tracy for a year, you asshole. She’s not like that.”
“Whatever, man. You know what else? She’s a cheater.”
I couldn’t handle it and spun on him, glaring.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Straying eye, dude. When she sees a dick with more bling, even money says she’s on her knees in a heartbeat. Mark my words. She’ll blow that dude like she’ll never blow her husband and keep that in mind too. Women don’t fuck guys they have to the same way. You ain’t getting on top action or head again. Hell, you’ll be lucky if she stays awake while you’re at it.”
“Now you’re just being a fucking asshole. You know what? Whatever Urban Dictionary, Onion article fucking Mad Magazine you pulled this pep talk from, just shove it up your ass, okay? I don’t need it and you sure as hell aren’t selling it. Just…let me finish getting ready.”
“Okay, man but don’t say I didn’t warn you…don’t say I didn’t do my duty as your best man to tell you what a mistake you’re making.”
“Duly noted, ass wipe. Get the fuck out of here so I can concentrate on the god damn tie.”
“It’s a shitty color anyway,” George replied, heading for the door. “Good luck man.”
“Whatever.” I unraveled the knot, took a steadying breath and studied the diagram again. Cross the wide end over the narrow end…
“No, I really don’t.” I went back to working on my tie. The double Windsor always gave me fits. “Enlighten me.”
“Pussy on tap, dude. C’mon! Why the hell else would you saddle yourself with a bitch? You better put some fuckin’ scripture in the contract for it though. If she’s not contractually obligated to spread her legs, you’ll be fucked…” George paused. “Or not as the case may be.”
“That’s some cynical ass shit,” I said. The knot got fucked up again and I had to start over. “Have you ever heard of love? Family? Partnership? Those are the reasons you get married…not…not POT.”
“Dude, you’ve got to be on pot to buy that public service shit! I’m telling you flat out marriage is only one thing: socially acceptable prostitution and sometimes without the payoff. Shit, give me a three month dry spell of no pussy before I have to wake up to the same ho every morning. Or have the same hussy not only refuse to suck my cock but now she wants me to clean up the house too? I don’t need snatch lorded over me, man. It ain’t right.”
I concentrated on getting the tie right but just as I thought I finished, the length was wrong and the big part in the front barely made it to the middle of my chest. I started over again, letting out a sigh. My wardrobe irritation was compounded by George’s asshole quotient, which seemed to be exceptionally high.
He’d been a prick since high school but a true one...kinda. His theories tended toward the outlandish and whenever he opened his mouth, someone would be offended. He considered himself a great thinker but he confused thoughtful argument for scandalous drivel. Reality TV made a big impact on his moral values…or lack thereof.
“You know you’re my best friend, right?” I looked back at the diagram and folded the big part of the tie over the small.
“Duh, no one else will put up with you.”
“Not entirely true…not entirely the point.” I rolled my eyes. “Here’s the thing, I asked you to be my best man but I might’ve asked someone else if I knew you were going to sit there shit talking marriage hours before I took the vows.”
“Hey, at least it hasn’t happened yet.” George sipped his vodka from a paper cup. Ever classy. “Imagine if I told you this shit after you were done. You’d be fucked, man. You wouldn’t be able to back out. I’m giving you the facts.”
“As you see them, maybe.” I twisted the big part around the tiny knot, preparing for the finale. “I don’t even know where you came up with all this crap. Your parents were happily married for forty-years. Is this from all those coffee house pricks you hang out with? Are they giving you this philosophy?”
“Dude, it’s called common fucking sense. Look it up next to how not to be a dumb fuck.” George shook his head. “My parents were from a different time. People respected each other then. Now, women are raised to be princesses and dudes are a bunch of pussy stomped douche bags with no concept of how to be men. You and me are different but Tracy…”
“Seriously? You’re going to talk shit about my fiancé too?”
“Have you seen the way she eyes shit? She’s a materialistic cunt. You can’t afford her, I can tell you that right now.”
The tie came out crooked and once again, the back was too long. I slapped the wall and felt a burst of pain in my middle finger. It jammed against the concrete, making the joint ache. I clenched my fist and my teeth, trying to calm down but between the fucking tie and George, I felt my temper slipping.
“I’ve lived with Tracy for a year, you asshole. She’s not like that.”
“Whatever, man. You know what else? She’s a cheater.”
I couldn’t handle it and spun on him, glaring.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Straying eye, dude. When she sees a dick with more bling, even money says she’s on her knees in a heartbeat. Mark my words. She’ll blow that dude like she’ll never blow her husband and keep that in mind too. Women don’t fuck guys they have to the same way. You ain’t getting on top action or head again. Hell, you’ll be lucky if she stays awake while you’re at it.”
“Now you’re just being a fucking asshole. You know what? Whatever Urban Dictionary, Onion article fucking Mad Magazine you pulled this pep talk from, just shove it up your ass, okay? I don’t need it and you sure as hell aren’t selling it. Just…let me finish getting ready.”
“Okay, man but don’t say I didn’t warn you…don’t say I didn’t do my duty as your best man to tell you what a mistake you’re making.”
“Duly noted, ass wipe. Get the fuck out of here so I can concentrate on the god damn tie.”
“It’s a shitty color anyway,” George replied, heading for the door. “Good luck man.”
“Whatever.” I unraveled the knot, took a steadying breath and studied the diagram again. Cross the wide end over the narrow end…
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