This whole post is a bit embarrassing but , you asked for it!
The loud staccato pounding on the door made me jump. “Aren’t you ready yet honey?” Marie hollered from the other side. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Almost, I need a couple more minutes”
“Jesus,” she mumbled “Men… can’t live with ‘em can’t live without ‘em.” I heard her retreat back towards the kitchen.
I put the finishing touches of red face paint around my eyes and checked the mirror. It was flawless. I really did look like a tomato. I had worked for weeks making the papier-mâché costume and planning the makeup and it looks like I hit it out of the park. I was a perfect Roma Tomato. I knew I was going to win the prize for best costume at the Halloween party.
I pulled the door open and got wedged in the frame when I tried to go through. I backed up turned sideways and tried again. Still no good. “Marie, honey, can you give me a hand here?” I yelled down the hall.
“Great costume” she grinned. “You make a hot tomato!”
“Your lettuce dress is ravishing” I replied, “but I’m stuck. I can’t get through this door.”
“Can you take off the costume, and put it back on in the hall? I think this door is the only one that will cause any problems.”
“Yeah, I guess. You will have to help me reposition it when I put it back on though.”
I carefully removed the costume. There was nothing underneath except red boxers.
We carried the two parts of the costume into the kitchen and I started worrying with the pieces getting ready to put it back on. I felt her hand on my rear end. “You look kinda cute with those red panties.” She said.
“These are boxers, not panties. Panties are what girls wear. Men don’t wear panties.” I said, she was always challenging my masculinity.
“I’m not wearing panties either” she leered, “I’m wearing lettuce. Are you interested in makin’ a salad?”
“I thought you were worried about being late.”
The back door swung open and in waltzed Mom, dressed like a vampire. She got a little flustered, “Oh, my – excuse me – I’ll, I’ll wait in the yard.” Her face flushed as she backed out the door.
I looked at Marie. She was a bit red herself.
And me? I looked like a tomato. A tomato with his boxers around his ankles and a lettuce leaf in each hand.
You’ll like these guys stuff better, I promise.
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