Holy Misfire.

This article is not a "comedy post" specifically.  It's a short story written for the website The Wicked Pink, you should check it out and support my friends!  It'll be featured there soon!


I suppose I should preface this post by saying I’m turning twenty this month – which is another way of saying I know dick about love.  On top of that I’m a child of divorce and both of my parents are in terrible second relationships.  Needless to say, I have some issues with handling romance. 

Despite being under-qualified for love – like every human – I have had my ins and outs with it. 

I moved to New York City about a year ago and quickly found out just how lonely such a populous place could be.  Without a foothold on any social circles and a fresh comedy career in the works, I was destined to waltz with the frigid winter alone. 

Then she came along.  You can tell a girl is looking for disaster when she’s the first person to make eye contact – and the first person to give the wry smirk.  The ends of her lips curled up and I was done before they parted. 

Before I go any further, let me just say that I have no religious standing – nor am I against religion – I’m just not concerned with all that shit.  That being said, I am absolutely in love with religious girls.  When there’re more rules to break, it makes things a lot more interesting.

I saw her at an open mic, I practically performed my entire set to her – I couldn’t get my eyes off of her.  She was laughing the entire time so I knew I could swoop in for a few words.  When I finished up I went over the bar and we hit it off almost immediately.  Her name was Amy and she was a good ol’ Christian gal from Roanoke, Virginia – one of my former homes.  Once the connection was made, the night was on lockdown. 

She was still moving into her apartment so I offered her a “place to rest her head” and also a place to potentially have sex.  She took to the idea like a cat to cream and we bolted off like Bonnie and Clyde. 

When we got to my place I had my strategy worked out.  Food, movie, pillow-talk and a “Hail Mary.”  Basic stuff, really.  She unpacked her necessities from her purse – including a King James Bible which she placed right on my nightstand.

Her goodie-two-shoe personality was attracted to my cynical attitude, she found absolutely everything I said to be hilarious.  It’s like I hit the jackpot, she could be wifey material if she kept this pace! 

Food.  I made her some rice, beans and a fried egg (courtesy of my Brazilian half) – turns out she didn’t like beans.  She didn’t like…  BEANS.  They’re BEANS!  Oh, and she also didn’t like EGGS.  EGGS?  Whatever, I guess she’s a picky eater, I can deal.  She wound up having “the tastiest bowl of rice ever!” 

Movie.  Oh…  GOD.  She won’t shut up.  Why do women insist on talking during movies?  Or getting up every four seconds to do nothing?  I seriously wanted to break her legs so she’d stop moving, then sock her in the mouth to keep it quiet – but I showed restraint…  Other than smoking like a thousand cigarettes to keep my nerves at bay.  But it’d all be worth it, she was having a fantastic time in her oblivious little Christian world – I knew I’d be a lucky man tonight.

Pillow-talk.  If breath could manifest into the tangible, her breath would be Excalibur – slaying my nose with every intimate word she spoke to me.  Jesus, if you love your followers – please bless this woman’s breath with an everlasting mint, because this was serious.  Hell, I smoke and my breath is incapable of being this deadly.  It was warm and depressing…  I never had a conversation while holding my air in.

Hail Mary!  I grinned and bared, I knew it was coming.  The petting was at maximum heaviness.  It was time to seal this deal.  I initialized “hooking” – all men know the move, where our fingers curl at her beltline and slowly peel away those pesky clothes – but she suddenly slapped my hands away.  What…  What could possibly be going on?  I warmed back into the petting to try again – she shoots me down once more. 

Maybe I’m the asshole here but if you agree to enter a young man’s home, eat his food, watch his Netflix AND sleep in his bed all in the same night as meeting him…  Aren’t you broadcasting a certain message?  I’ll just say I’m the asshole.

So I ask her if something’s wrong and she replies with, “I’m saving myself.”

“From what?”

“FOR marriage, silly.”

“Uh…  Saving…  Like, everything?”

“Sure.”

“Even your butt?”

I get smacked.

“Well…  What about your mouth?”

Gut check.

“All right, all right.  But, you know…  You got me all riled up here – what am I supposed to do?”

“I mean, if you really want me to – I can use my hand?”

It was something; this innocent young lady was making an effort.  An effort that was making me increasingly more sexually frustrated than I had ever been before.  But shit, I took what she was going to offer...

I hadn’t properly prepared my artillery for sexual endeavors that night – so my troops were gathered and ready for action…  Immediately.  The moment her hand wrapped around my...  Yanno…  I Dante Peaked all over the place – particularly on the King James Bible. 

That’s when she screamed out, “JESUS CHRIST!  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Unable to handle the embarrassment that washed over me, I ran out of my own apartment in the midst of getting dressed – leaving her in my home to deal with the mess.  I took a long, long walk before coming back.  She was gone, thankfully, but the bible wasn’t.  The bible rest smack dab in the middle of my bed, sure enough open to Ezekiel 16:63 –

 “that you may remember and be ashamed, and never open your mouth anymore because of your shame, when I provide you an atonement for all you have done,” says the Lord GOD.’”