On a Saturday

8:55 pm

Philadelphia, PA

Frank wasn't a romantic man by any standard, but he had to fake it for the first time in a few years. He was meeting with a woman who he had forced to have an abortion. She ended up with some other shitty kid (she was a giant whore) who didn't let her come to his birthday party and she's crashing in Frank's mansion instead. His kids were God knows where (a birthday party in South Philly or something? How many goddamn kids have birthdays in February?), leaving him and Bonnie ample time to do as they pleased.

Unfortunately, Frank wasn't the romancer he once was. More of his hair had fallen out and he was accused of not acting "age appropriate". Meanwhile, change in standards were brewing, leaving Frank out of the loop on both the older and younger ends. There was one thing he learned his moves from that always got him out of the funks: pornos.

Charlie Has a Party: Frank's Story

The bed sheets were a silky white, except there were strands of grass on top instead of rose petals. He wasn't going to use fucking rose petals; what pussy would think that's cool? He lit some candles, some with hemp wicks, some without. It made things kinkier, with the added privilege of drugs. The piece de resistance was the bottle of aged, white wine and two glasses. Nothing like getting a hot mess tipsy, stoned, and hot all at once.

The doorbell rang. Frank put on his better looking glasses and trotted downstairs because when you're Frank, there's no other way to go down stairs. He liked escalators for that reason. He opened the door to a smiling older woman.

"Who the shit are you," said Frank, indignantly.

"It's me," she said, "Bonnie."

Frank was unpleasantly surprised. "You got all old and shit."

"So did you, Frankie."

Bonnie teared up a little, "Before I came here, I talked to my friend on the phone. She lives in Missouri, or misery as I call it. She had a little baby girl not too long ago. I thought of our baby boy."

"The dead fetus?"

"I told you before, Frankie. It didn't die. He was born and he is your son."

"You had a stillbirth?"

"No, you insensitive piece of shit! Our son! Charlie!"

A light bulb went off in Franks head. Charlie was the name of Dennis and Dee's retarted friend. Was that who's party they were at? Frank shook it off. That's impossible, he thought. No one goes to the mental fuck ups parties! This kid had to be some other loser. He had the name of a fast food franchise; Burger King or some shit.

Bonnie wasn't smiling. She always smiled, even when she was pissed, or having a fetus get stabbed inside her or however abortions work. Her dick son genuinely hurt her feelings. Frank had to comfort her, and there was only one way he knew how.

"Wanna come upstairs?"

#

An hour and a half later, Frank and Bonnie were in the fists of passion once again. Bonnie would slip off when she was on top, but Frank would hurt her when he was on top. Eventually, they decided he stands and plow her while Bonnie lays on the bed. This worked out rather well, in fact. Frank went in just deep enough to please Bonnie without clitoral stimulation. Frank was just happy he didn't feel the condom and the moans were genuine. He knew fake moans rather well, thanks to Barbara's passive aggressive tone.

"Oh…OH…Frank, these are fake. Cum in your hand and give me a lube job."

They came at the same time. It made things special or some woman shit like that. It never felt special before, but maybe it was because he felt a little bad for her. Maybe there were legitimate feelings there, but Frank chose to ignore them.

"Frankie," the croaky voice of Bonnie called out, "I'm allowed to sleep here tonight, right?"

This took him off guard. "Yeah, yeah. Oh god yeah." His voice was sympathetic for once. He tucked her in under the silk sheets, crawling in with her. Looking at the sheets, he remembered why rose petals were ysed so often: grass stains. "Shit," he murmured.

"The sheets?" Bonnie guessed.

"The sheets," confirmed Frank.

"I know how to get them out," she offered.

"Done," Frank smiled. He thought for a minute about what things would've been like if he left Barbara for Bonnie. She wasn't pregnant yet, it wouldn't have been scandalous or anything. If anything, it would have a happier ending. He and Bonnie would take care of the kid and maybe fall in love, Barbara could rot in hell, and Dennis and Dee would never be unhappy or existing. That's the best way to cheer someone up anyway; for them to never live. To never know what great horrors were in the world. They didn't know what they were missing, thus missed nothing. Like the dead fetus.

With that, they drifted off to sleep.

#

Around six or something, Frank woke up to the smell of bacon. He wandered downstairs to see Bonnie had made Frank breakfast.

"You were so sweet last night. Want something?"

"Yeah, but only if you will."

They ate together, laughed together, talked together. It was as if this wasn't their first time really seeing each other after 10 or more years. They stayed talking long into the day, living off pancakes, bacon, and fruit.

It wasn't until 5 in the afternoon Bonnie said. "Oh my goodness it's late! I need to check on my Charlie." They said their goodbyes and left, leaving Frank in a state of curiosity. Should he leave Barbara? He never really loved her and it was really just a title at this point.

Dennis and Dee snapped him out of his wandering thoughts. "Aw shit! Breakfast for dinner!" they said at the same time like twins do sometimes. Dee was polite and added a "thanks", as his kids sat and ate the very food Frank ate all day. It wasn't his ideal life, but he cared too much about Dennis and Dee to leave now.


I'm sorry, I just really wanted to troll a little. "Oh, wait, we're not seeing what happened when Mac found out about PS, we're seeing Frank's night. Lolol!" That's next chapter, don't worry.

Thanks for the finals well wishing. I have 3 more, then I'm off for the summer.

The baby in Missouri is me, by the by.