4. Four


Me: "Stop? What do you mean stop?"       I do like a forensic detective and try to analyze the scene.  I begin to put the pieces together and try to determine where I went wrong.  Was I tooaggressive? Was this not what she wanted? Is this perfect planner about to charge me withrape, so I can have a perfect jail sentence?    Brittany: “Yes,I said stop”    Me: “What did I do?”   Brittany :“Nothing, I need a break”   Me: "A break? Two minutes have not even gone by and you already need a break?"   Brittany is telling me that she needs a break? What is going on with this cuckoo? One minute she is saying she wants it now she is saying she doesn't!  Then she makes a confession.   Brittany: “I am really feeling faint. Uh, I think I'm  going to faint. "   Brittany puts the backside of her palm over her head as if she has a fever.  In my head I am thinking I am the man because I just wore this poor little thing out in a matter of minutes.  However, she continues her confession. Brittany: "I’m Hypoglycemic."   Me: “Hypo-what?”   Brittany: " Hypoglycemic."   Me: "What is Hypogly-"   Brittany:  “Hypoglycemic.  It means that if my blood sugar gets too low then I will pass out.”   Me: " How did you get it?" Brittany: " I dunno, I just know I didn't eat today and I'm feeling faint."   This can’t be happening to me right now. Here I amin some seven-month-old marinated pussy.  I am only on my warm up lap and my tennis event isnow canceled due to unforeseen conditions.  What part of the planning phase is this?           While my Mr. Goodbar was still in his raincoat I had to think fast.  Next, I sprint like Usain Bolt being chased by a 200 poundRottweiler to the kitchen looking for anything to bring her blood sugar up. I frantically open and close cabinets in her kitchen.  Naked as a jaybird,  I search through every nook and cranny like an officer with a search warrant.  I then yell from the kitchen on behalf of my dick in distress.   Me: " You have any juice in the fridge?"   With the faintest voice Brittany responds.   Brittany:  " There are Capri Suns in the cabinet to the left of the fridge."          I open the cabinetand tear open the box of Capri Suns like a fat kid opening a Twinkie at lunch time.  I rush back to the bed and I instruct her to drink the juice as fast as she can.  Soon after she downs it,  I scramble back to the kitchenand grab another Capri sun.  Capri Suns are like giving CPR to your blood sugar.         The current scene feels like a Nascar pit stop.  A whole lot of running around within a confined space and feeling the pressure of precious seconds ticking away.  After a few seconds pass, she seems to come to life.  I am now ready to get my car back on her speedway.         I jump back in the driver's seat and I am weaving in her traffic.  Up and down, in and out, pedal to the medal.  My hips accelerate at lightning speed, fearful that my Indy 500 race will be cut short again by the word "stop."  While in the 6th gear, I can  finally feel the checkered flag waiving neat the finish line. As...I...reach...the...finish....line... Brittany: " Stop!"   I completely mash my brakes. Me: " Again?"   Brittany:  "I think I'm going to pass out again.  I'm so sorry."   Me: " But I was just about to finish! You have more stop and goes than an Asian on his first day of driver's training."   Brittany: " I really need to eat something.  The Capri Suns aren't working that well."   At this point I amfrustrated so I run back to the kitchen.  At last...Rice Krispy Treats.  Full of sugar, lots of  carbs forenergy and they taste good.  I rush back tothe bed and open the treats.  Me: "Hurry eat this!"   Brittany: "I feel so bad that all this is happening."    Me: " Don't talk, you might be wasting energy.  You wasting energy is not part of the plan.  I planned on finishing what we started but that seems to be an issue."   Brittany: " You don't have to be a jerk about it!"   Me: "Just eat. I see hypoglycemia makes people moody."   Brittany still has a mouthful of Rice Krispy Treats in her mouth.   Brittany: " Just come back over here and put it back in."           Once again, I jump back in the bed for my third try as Brittany is still downing Rice Krispy Treats while washing them down with Capri Sun juice.  I am now back inaction, back in her speedway.  At thismoment I have made more comebacks than a Brett Farve career.            She is  multi-tasking while on her back.  Both of her legs are in the air like TV antennas.  My car is in her garage hitting on all cylinders.  One of her hands is on my back holding on for the ride of her life.  The other hand is wrapped around the Hypoglycemic antidotes.  Half of a Capri Sun and a quarter Rice Krispy square.  I guess it is true what they say, America's Got Talent. Now, there is no stopping me thanks to this  emergency food.  Meanwhile Brittany's eyes are rolling in the back of her head and I can't tell if she is passing out or it is feeling good to her.        I am coming around the corner for the final stretch.  The finish line is in my view and I'm ready to explode like C-4. I have waited ages for the day I would be able to put my fuel injector in her engine. I can now feel my transmission fluid about to leak all over her engine. Then I get blind sided again.   Brittany: "We have to stop."  Me: " Stop? Again?  I thought you were feeling better.  You need me to grab some more Rice Krispy Treats?" Brittany:  "No thank you.  It's not that."   Me: " Is it me?" Brittany points across the room to the clock on the wall.   Brittany:  " I'm going to miss my flight.  We have to leave right now." Me: " Can't you just take the next flight out and say you missed this one?"   Brittany: " Oh no, that is not happening. I DIDN'T PLAN FOR THAT!"           I regretfully got dressed and rushed to take Brittany to the airport.  Although I never made it to the finish line that day, I still made it on the speedway.  A few weeks later after she made it back in town, I was able to finish what we had started.  But only because she was able to plan it!                     
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