Page 10 of The Champion
“I am calm. This is my calm.” His eyes narrowed as Icontinued to giggle, and pee a little.
“Really? If you’re so calm, where are your pants?”
He sighed in defeat when he looked down and realized whyhe was so cold. “Shit.”
He came back a few minutes later, still complaining.
“I’ve eaten entirely too much ice cream these days...my pants don’t even fit!”
“Jameson?”
“Yeah?” he glanced over at me digging the keys out of hispocket.
“Those aremypants.”
“Shit.”
He came back again, another five minutes later, stillcomplaining, but this time he looked even more agitated.
“Jesus Christ, did you buy these for me? I mean...I know I’ve gained a few pounds thisoff-season, no thanks to you and your ice cream...butfuck. What’s with the kangaroo pouch?”
“Those aremine!” I yelled. We were never going tomake it to the hospital at this rate. “You should change and wake the fuck up!Put your own goddamn clothes on!”
He sat there staring at me for a moment like I’d lost mymind. He’d lost his mind, not me.
“You really should change.” I motioned with my hands tothe water still trickling out of me. “We need to go.”
“You think?”
I punched his shoulder. “Don’t be an asshole.”
When he came back he was finally wearing his own jeansand in a completely different mood. I began to think he’d smoked some ofCharlie’s pot.
“Okay, let’s do this!” he proclaimed pumping his fists inthe air and starting the truck.
“This isn’t a pep rally. Calm down.”
“I’m being supportive. There’s a difference.”
“Is that so?” I snorted. “I couldn’t tell.”
“You don’t have to be so harsh. I’m only trying to beencouraging.”
“How about you focus and drive to the goddamn hospital!”I snapped slapping the back of his head. “That would be supportive.”
He glared. “Stop hitting me.”
“Since I will be popping a child out of my crankcasetoday, I will do whatever the fuck I want.” I slapped him again. “Now drive!”
“You should be nicer to me.I’mthe one driving.”
I sighed heavily. “No, you’re not driving. You’re sittinghere wearing one of my maternity shirts and arguing with me about being nicerto you.” I pointed to his shirt and leaned back in the seat, his eyes driftedto his shirt. “You should look inyourcloset foryourclothes. Idon’t know how many times I have to tell you but mine is the one on the left,not yours.”
Smugly he got out to change his shirt and came back witha muffin in hand and another bottle of water. I reached for the muffin, rolledthe window down and tossed it in the driveway. “I can’t eat so neither can youasshole.”
After a good twenty minutes of this bullshit, we finallymade our way to Saint Peters Hospital in Olympia, only to have Jameson go thewrong way, twice and then ask to stop at Burger King because he was hungry.
My response, “Go ahead but if you eat in front of me Iwill chop your dick off, no lie.”
