The Girl with the Tits

Mission 1. Hook up with someone as old as my mom (54) and as young as my sister (20) in a month.
Mission 2. Live a completely gay lifestyle (without the gay sex) for a month.
Mission Three: Live without an apartment for a month.

I had to check my messages. My parents would no doubt be worried that they didn’t hear from me in two weeks. I tried to keep up with them in the beginning, but it became too difficult, especially when I abandoned the cell.

So I went where few others go these days, the public telephone. In L.A., the cellphone is a staple, regardless of socioeconomic status. If you can scrounge $20 a month, you can talk your ass off. And people do, regrettably.

I dropped some change in, and dialed my number. I was trying to remember my answering code, when someone picked up.

“What is up?” The voice said.

“Who is this?” I said out of confusion more than anything else. But those words were not well-spent. There was no mistaking the voice of M.C.

“Who is this?” he answered back.

“M.C., it’s fucking Rob, what are you doing answering the phone?"

“It rang, I answer. Evan scream, ‘pick up the fucking phone’ and I do.”

“Fuck M.C., I told you to let the machine pick up my phone.”

“Yes, but Evan scream, ‘pick up fucking phone,’ he is here, you are not.”

“All right, put him on.”

“Ok, Rob, are you mad at us?” M.C. asked.

“I just don’t feel like explaining to my callers why I have two Austrian guys living at my place, that’s all.”

“We are German,” he said angrily.

“OK, German, whatever, Just put Evan on.”

“Rob Lowe, the movie star, is it really you?” Evan said.

“Evan, not in the mood. How long have you been answering the phone?”

“I do not answer phone, M.C. does. You should have beef with him.”

“Just tell me who you spoke to. Did my parents call at all.”

“Yes, I hear them on answering machine. We never pick up for them, too old.”

“Ok, phew, anyone else?”

“We only pick up for California girls, we hear them on machine, we pick up to talk to big tits. We talk to Tracy and Lisa.”

Fuck, I thought. I’ll never hear the end of this.

“Do not pick up the phone for anyone. You guys bought a fucking cell, just use that. I better not have a huge phone bill to Europe.”

“Rob Lowe, that would be dishonest, I am ashamed you think that. We only pick up the phone for social. We hear girls on phone, we pick up and talk. Tracy, does she have the big tit?”

“Forget it dude, I need to call back and check my messages. Please let the machine pick up and do not answer my fucking phone anymore.”

“I tell M.C.”

“All right, thanks.”

“Rob Lowe, wait. We have problem with toilet.”

“What’s wrong?”

“M.C. takes big shit, it cannot flush.”

“You need the plunger, and you need to hold down the handle. Is it the one in the hallway?”

“No, in bedroom.”

“I told you guys to use the other bathroom, fuck, I’m coming over.”

“See you.”

I got in the car, forgetting to check my messages.

I walked into my place and saw M.C. on the couch and Evan lining up beer bottles like 12 pins. M.C. got up to give me a hug.

“I am sorry about the shit. It is the fast food.”

I walked over to the closet and pulled out the plunger. “M.C., follow me,” I said.

We walked into the bathroom and I saw what looked like a small brown dog living inside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you dude?”

“I go big. I say already, the food.”

I handed him the plunger and he plunged away. But first he had to cut it with the business end of the rubber. I was mortified. He plunged and plunged, and I walked away to check my messages. I hit play. Evan was eating peanut butter with a spoon.

“He takes big ones, huh?” he said laughing.

“Yea, by the way, you guys owe me for the rest of the month that you added. I’ll need it tomorrow. I’ll stop by to get some stuff. I’m going away and need some clothes.”

“No problem, I have now if you want.”

“Ok.”

“You going somewhere special?”

“Vegas.”

Over Tracy’s voice on the answering machine, I heard M.C. from the bathroom shout out, “The Vegas, take me.”

“Not this time,” I said.

He walked out with the plunger dripping brown water.

“Dude, my fucking floor,” I screamed.

Evan burst out laughing, M.C. felt bad. “I clean, don’t worry.”

“That is the girl with the tits,” Evan said, hearing Tracy’s voice.

“Yea, that’s the girl with the tits,” I said, relenting.

He smiled.

I collected the messages, the money and to save me a trip, my clothes. I walked by the bathroom and took a good look at a man in his twenties. The beard was not working. Madison was right, beards are for ugly guys. I deserve more. I deserve a mustache.

I walked into my bedroom to digitally preserve the memory. Mustaches are for hot dudes, even Madison would agree to that. It will be my good luck charm in Vegas, "the Vegas."

“See you fuckers when I get back” I said, before saying goodbye to my place, saying goodbye to my twenties.