Friday Night

Written By: Dan “The Man” Sklut

Friday night was supposed to be the best night ever for Trey Mendez. He was finally going to get laid. After going out with Tracy for what seemed like forever (but was really just two weeks), she decided she was ready to give it up. She had even called him at 10:30 at night to tell him, in her words, to “Come and get [his] love right now.”

So how did he end up next to an abandoned building with a gun pointed in his face? To understand this, we’re going to have to backtrack a few hours.

By 9:00, an exhausted Trey was already in bed, waiting for Saturday morning to come around so he could get an early start on finishing his list of errands. Sex was the last thing on his mind that night. Unfortunately, Trey had a one-track mind, which meant that sex was also the first thing on his mind.

The steadily building pressure in Trey’s southern hemisphere felt like it would burst him wide open if it was left untreated any longer. Sure, there may have been certain other ways to take care of that, but not for Trey Mendez. Let’s just say he was all too familiar, bored even, with practicing his free-throws. He was ready to play one-on-one now.

He had hoped mind-numbing chores like digging up weeds, doing the dishes, and washing cars would help distract him from that all-encompassing reproductive obsession of his, though all it did was give him more time to think about it. So off to sleep he drifted, with his thoughts and memories of the day swimming around in head, sometimes combining and mutating, resulting in some interesting dreams involving a half-woman, half-shovel.

But before he could imagine the painful splinters from getting to second base with a sexy spade, his cell phone rang, sending Trey springing out of bed to groggily answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey Trey, it’s Tracy. Did I wake you?”

“Huh… oh, not that much, I was just… digging… um… this new cd I got.”

“Oh, cool. Like, um listen. I was, like, thinking, you know, like about you and me---”

Oh, no. That sounds like breakup talk to me. It’s got all the classic signs: the hesitance, the overuse of filler words like ‘like’ and ‘um’, and of course, her announcement that she was thinking about ‘us.’ Why is it that women never tell me they’re thinking about me until never thinking about me again is involved? Well, at least I detected it right away, so I can mentally prepare for it. Good thing I can read women so well. But what did I do wrong?

“--- and you know how you always say we should try new things?”

Oh, this is must be about that bad sushi. “We’d like some salmon, and we’d like it well done,” we said. “Try it raw; it’s great,” the waiter said. “The Japanese do it, and they’re all right.” Damn cocky waiter. Maybe I shouldn’t have mistaken him for a woman. Or maybe I just shouldn’t have listened to him. But it wasn’t my fault. The light was dim, and he had a pony tail, how could I have accurately told the difference?

“Trey, are you still there?”

“Yeah, babe, I’m here,” he said, snapped out of his inner monologue. “But come on,
that sushi wasn’t that bad!”

“What are you talking about? You mean that raw salmon we had last Saturday? That
wasn’t sushi. That was just some pissed-off waitress’s practical joke.”

“That ‘waitress’ was a dude,” explained Trey.

“Oh. Ooooh! That explains the poisonous recommendation, then. Well, good for the
Steak Palace. It’s good that they don’t discriminate against the girly-looking or trans-
gendered.”

“If that’s true, then Chris Crocker will always have something to fall back on.”

“You mean besides VH1? Ha! But seriously, there’s a reason I called you,” Tracy said
seriously.

“Yeah, I kinda already guessed that there was something on your mind (Oh boy, here
comes the dumping of a lifetime),” said and thought Trey, respectively.

“Oh, really? What did you think I was calling to tell you about?” Tracy sounded coy.
But that confused Trey.

Why doesn’t she just call it quits with me already? Why with all these mind games? What am I supposed to say? Maybe my female literacy isn’t quite up to snuff after all. No, that’s crazy talk. I’m awesome. After all, I got a girlfriend, didn’t I? But apparently, I’m about to lose one. So I’m about even. Wait, I’m still talking to her. I should say something.

“Something important enough to wake me up, I suppose.”

“I thought you were listening to music.”

“I was… in my sleep. My subconscious needs entertainment too, you know. But
whatever, what was it that you wanted?” Trey asked in his least impatient voice.
The two of them would have ended up going off on twenty different tangents if he hadn’t put his foot down then and there, and Trey knew it. He had the phone bills to prove that he could keep a conversation going with Tracy for at least thirty minutes without saying one important thing.

“I want to have sex.”

“What? With who?

“You.”

“Me?”

Trey was astonished. He expected to hear the name of Tracy’s next boyfriend, but it would seem that fate threw him a curve ball, and not only spared him his relationship with Tracy, but also took it up to the next level.

“Yes, you. Who else would I be talking about? I’ve thought it over, and the more I
think about it, the more I want to do it. Like, right now. Come and get your love now,
Trey. I’m waiting.”

“I’ll be over at your place as soon as possible!”

And with that, he hung up the phone, took off his clothes, and sprinted to the shower. The US military could have learned a thing or two from the efficiency with which Trey cleaned himself in such short time (less than two minutes).

Ah, so fresh, so clean. Wow. I will never trust my instincts about women again. Oh my god, I have dreamed of phone calls like that. Wait, am I dreaming? I don’t see any shovels here, so probably not. Okay, shower’s done. Now I just have to dress, grab my stuff, sneak out of the house and drive away, all without being heard by my parents. Great. No problem.

Now, as mentioned before, Trey had a one-track mind. What I failed to mention, however, was that that track was about the size of the Union Pacific Railroad, so no matter what, his testosterone-addled train of thought would keep on a-chuggin’ until it reached its final destination (in this case, a tunnel of sorts).

No obstacle would stop him from making the beast with two backs, least of all his parents. Ever the resourceful lad, Trey waited until his parents were out of earshot, climbed out of his bedroom window, got into his into car, and started his journey to the Promised Land:

…Tracy’s apartment.

END OF ACT I. ACT II to be continued next week.