“There’s a product to cure ball sweat? Balls have sweat glands? Where do they hide the pores? And how do you know this?”
“Venture capital project at my job. They’re coming out with a new product for breast sweat.”
“Now that I know about first hand,” Marie says with a knowing nod. “Breasts do more work than people appreciate. The Girls work up a sweat on a regular basis.”
Considering the fact that Marie hasn’t been pregnant or breastfed in well over two decades, I don’t really want to know what kind of ‘work’ her chest girls have been up to.
Shannon walks in. Chuckles runs to cuddle with her ankles, then rubs his butthole all over her calf.
“Hi to you too, Chuckles. That’s exactly how Declan greets me most nights.”
“Ewwwww,” Amy says, plugging her ears. “I hear enough about Mom’s sex life. Don’t need to know more about yours.”
“Honey, does Declan have a problem with ball sweat?”
“Huh?” Shannon gives Amy an evil look. “What have you been telling her?”
“Amy says the groom and groomsmen will need testicle powder if I ask them to go commando for the wedding.”
“Testicle powder? Is that going to be a wedding favor?”
“Do they make such a thing?” Marie asks, interest piqued.
“Sure,” Amy says. “Personalized bottles and everything. Think of the possibilities. Shannon and Declan, Dry Forever, with the date stamped on there and a logo of a dove. People will always associate your wedding with smooth sacs.”
Shannon throws Chuckles at Amy’s head. He lands perfectly in Amy’s lap, his butthole sliding down the length of her forearm as he settles into a liquid ball of fur in her lap.
“Don’t do that to the flower girl!” Marie barks.
“The what? Amy’s a bridesmaid, not a flower girl.”
“Chuckles is the flower girl.” Marie says this as if she were saying, Chicken is the main course.
Chuckles looks as shocked as Shannon, which is pretty hard to do when you don’t have eyebrows, but he pulls it off.
“You’re making my cat be my flower girl?”
“The McCormicks don’t have any little girls in their family. We only have Jeffrey and Tyler as ring bearers. I saw this adorable idea on Pinterest for how to use family pets as flower girls, and—”
Pinterest is a tool of Satan.
“My cat is going to be my flower girl because of a Pinterest board.”
“At least the men will have dry balls,” Amy says, um...dryly.
“What about Chuckles?” Marie asks.
“What about him?”
“Will he sweat under his kilt, too?” Marie scribbles on yet another sticky note. “Check to see if they make cat ball sweat powder,” she says to herself as she writes.
“Under his what? You’re making Chuckles wear a kilt tuxedo?” Does Chuckles even have balls? I don’t want to look.
I can’t help it. I look.
No balls.
“No, silly. Just a kilt. Cat’s can’t wear tuxedos!” Marie says in a voice filled with scoffing that we would even entertain the thought.
“Cats can’t be flower girls, either.”
“Of course they can! You’re a trendsetter now, Shannon. You’re marrying one of the most famous billionaires in the U.S.”
“Declan’s not a billionaire, Mom.”
“Not yet. Soon. Someday James will die and—”
“Mom!”
“What?”
“Don’t talk about James dying!”
“Why not? We all die one day.”
“But you make it sound so...gauche. Like we’re all just waiting around for James to die so Declan can get his money.”
Chuckles looks at Marie like he’s waiting for her to die so he can get out of being the flower girl at Shannon’s wedding. In fact, he looks like he has specific plans to kill Marie in her sleep by smothering her with a—
You guessed it.
Kilt tuxedo.
“Mom, Chuckles doesn’t look like he wants to be in the wedding,” Amy says out of the blue.
“How do you know what Chuckles wants?” Marie challenges. “Are you the Cat Whisperer?”
“Because I’m the only one who loves him anymore, and because he lives with me. Chuckles is my soul mate. My best friend. He’s the only one who loooooves me now that Shannon moved out and Amanda won’t move in.”
Chuckles is frowning at Amy like she’s gone off the deep end.
“He’s just a cat,” Marie says.
“That’s right, Mom,” Shannon argues. “And cats can’t be flower girls.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Marie says in a voice that really means, I’ve made up my mind and will do whatever I want and act like your opinion doesn’t matter.
“Elope,” Shannon whispers.
Marie stiffens.
Chuckles smiles.
“Shannon, you and Declan need to have a rehearsal dinner for the bridesmaids and the groomsmen. We all need to be there to begin to talk strategy.” Marie’s change of topic only serves to confirm the fact that Chuckles the Highlander is a done deal.
“Why would we host it? Isn’t that traditionally done by the groom’s parents?”
“You know James will just have one of his preschoolers...I mean, assistants, do it for him. A more intimate affair is in order.”
Shannon’s shoulder’s slump with defeat.
“What Mom means is that we need to get everyone together. And by ‘everyone,’ she means James McCormick. And save a seat for his wallet. It’s big enough. In fact, it should be the guest of honor,” Amy snarks.