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“Uncle Zach is the biggest kid I know.” Zach fist-bumps him. “Right on, little man. Right on.” I stare at my best friend, mouth hanging open in shock. “You’ve turned my own spawn against me? That’s messed up, man.”
“Is Uncle Zach dying?” Xavie calls out from the living room. “We hope so! I think I’m in his will.” “Yay, money!”
I just meant I wouldn’t have answered because talking on the phone makes me want to vomit.
“Who you texting, Dad?” “Business.” “Business?” “Yeah, none of yours.”
Python: Chicken. Me: The biggest chicken you’ll ever meet.
Monty: Hi Robert Cross. I’m Montana Andrews. Even though you’ve already had your tongue down my throat and your hand up my skirt, it’s nice to officially meet you.
Monty: It’s fine though. I’m enjoying the eat couches now. Monty: EAT COATS Me: Please, tell me more about eating couches and coats. I’m intrigued. Monty: EAST COAST
Me: Is it possible to die from rolling your eyes so hard? Python: You texted back, so apparently not.
Me: But fine. Just know I’m going to moan and groan the entire time. Python: Aw, I love it when you moan. Me: Hate you.
Python: You love it. Me: I plead the fifth. Python: That’s always code for yes.
“There is nothing ugly about you, Monty.”
“I’m going to kiss you, Monty. Fair warning.”
Me: DONUTS? Donuts are your “forbidden love”? Python: It’s a very toxic relationship, Monty. TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY!
Bruce Wayne is Batman. Why wouldn’t you want to name your pet after Batman? He’s Batman!
Python: Fine. You win this round. Me: We can call it a draw. 5535756841 Python: You’re my favorite. Me: I know.
Me: Sometimes I feel like you text me in the middle of a conversation you’re having with yourself. It’s endearing at times, but also very confusing. Python: We’re supposed to be all in sync by now, Monty. Get with the program.
We achieved our goal. I’ve fulfilled my fantasy from three weeks ago. I should feel a sense of…relief. Only I don’t. I’ve had a taste, and now I want more.
“Thank you for trusting me with your body, Monty. Thank you for choosing me, for allowing me to be the one who will always have that part of you, for…” His voice trails off, and it’s clear he’s doing the best he can to hold his emotions at bay. “Yeah, just thank you. It really means a lot to me.”
“Oooh, you on top—me likey.”
“Fuck, I’m screwed,” he mumbles. “Literally,” I mutter.
“You’re beautiful, Monty. So fucking beautiful.”
“You say I’m beautiful, but then I look at you and I think there’s no way that’s possible. The gods sculpted you themselves, Robbie.” “Nah, baby. I was sculpted by hard work, dedication, and my hard-ass trainer at Platinum Gym, not the gods.”
“I love us.” “Me too, and you know what else I love?” “Pizza? Me too. I’ll make us some.”
Me: I have two things to say to you, Monts. You ready? Me: #1, it didn’t work. Whatever we did last night, it didn’t fucking work. I’m still thinking about you, and I’m gonna need more—a whole hell of a lot more. Me: #2, you can run, but we’re not done. THIS isn’t done. We clear?
Python: God. I wanna kiss you so fucking bad right now that I hate myself for it because you saying wiener is absolutely goddamn ridiculous and I hate that I love it. Me: I just want to kiss you because I like kissing you. Python: I’m screenshotting that.
Me: OKAY? What about when I did that thing with my tongue? You were SCREAMING. Monty: You mean when you greeted me at your door by LICKING THE SIDE OF MY FACE?
Monty: Go work or something. Me: Nah. Me: I like bothering you more.
Me: What? I have a problem when it comes to you and your old granny clothes. They’re so hot!
Monty: I knew I was just a booty call. Me: Oh, did you think this was something more? My bad. Me: Seriously, though, I’m kinda missing you.
Me: Hangry? I don’t think you’re using that word right. Python: Sure I am. Horny + Angry = Hangry
“I know this was supposed to be light and fluffy and fun or whatever, but it’s evolved. I want more than that. I want stability. I want real. I want you.”
“No take-backs. It’s our rule…girlfriend.”
Python: Listen, I gotta run—have to feed my kid. We have someplace we need to be soon. We’ll continue this sexument later. Me: This what? Python: S-E-X-U-M-E-N-T: a fun, flirty argument that’s bound to lead to sex.
Me: Rule #1, no more dirty texting me when I’m at work and YOUR SON is in my classroom. Python: It’ll be hard, like me, but I can live with that rule. Next.
Me: Rule #2, I can’t come to your apartment anymore. It’ll feel weird now. You and Thumbelina will have to come over here, or we can meet somewhere public. Python: Stop trying to get me to have sex with you in public, Monty.
Me: Rule #3, no calling me babe. I like it too much. Python: Fine, babe. I won’t anymore, babe.
“The red hair you think is ‘bright and unattractive’ is alluring. It calls to me. Your body, which you often complain about, is what most would call perfection. Your long legs that make you ‘look like a giraffe’? Fucking hot, especially wrapped around me. Hell, even your Casper complexion is hot.”
“I’m saying you’re sexy as fuck, Monts, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you aren’t. I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t want you because of your self-designated flaws. I love you just the way you are.”
“Why’d we have to bring the bike? Bikes are lame. Jeans are lame. I miss your skirts so I can just slide my hand up them.”
“You’re that thing I never knew I wanted until I had it. You’re fun and adventure and temptation all wrapped into one, and I want to give in to you so badly.”
“For the billionth time, liking hairless cats does not make me weird.”
“Some things never change.” “When they’re good, why should they?”
And people say kids don’t know anything—bull. They can be intuitive little turds sometimes.
