It was a cruel, bitter pill for Jane to swallow.
Mr. Who took the wand out of Jane’s soggy, cramped hands with a tad of a struggle. Jane wished she could turn him into a toad, put him in a glass bottle and take him home with her to enjoy his horrified croaking in the confines of her own bedroom. She was even more than willing to punch holes in the lid; she was never cruel to animals. Mr. Who took both her hands and placed them on his chest, expecting her to slowly unbutton his shirt. Although Jane knew how to unbutton a shirt, her hands had forgotten how and Mr. Who had to help her (how embarrassing).
The shirt flew into the crowd and said crowd (overwhelmingly female, though Jane could swear she saw Hank skulking nearby) went wild. Mr. Who now guided Jane’s hands to his belt. This was the very first time in Jane’s 27 years of existence that she had touched, let alone unbuckled the belt of a man. The only practice she had were with her own belts and the collars of her dogs, thus sad to say, Mr. Who had to help her with this too.
Sweating profusely, Jane wondered: what was next on the agenda. Mr.(still gyrating his magnificent ass) Who took his belt and tied Jane’s hands together. The girls in the crowd screamed and sighed loudly while Jane swiftly paged through every kick- your- opponent- in- the- groin- if- he- gets- frisky, kung fu move she had ever seen in her life on television. You know, just as back up.
Then, dear reader, to Jane’s utter disgust and everybody else’s delight the real showstopper commenced. I bet you have forgotten about the long, bright orange carrot. Imagine, for a moment if in fact it were a banana. Jane couldn’t remember, but her friends told her that she first protested, telling Mr. Who:
”No please, I can’t, I’m allergic, (Other woman would have said yes repeatedly) after which Jane had to do what she had to do.
Held in a very suggestive manner Jane had to inch her head up by supporting her body with her elbows and chomp down on the carrot inch by bloody inch. Time stood still as the epic battle of Jane versus the carrot unfolded. She charged at the carrot with an unforgiving mouth, chopping it up and spitting it out as quickly as she possibly could.
She reduced it to a baby carrot, then to carrot salad and quite suddenly Jane was set free by Mr. Who. He unbuckled the belt, returned her wand and helped her off the slippery, sweaty counter. The music stopped, the bar lights came back on, the crowd turned into normal people again and Jane was allowed to stumble back to her chair.
Jane was livid, disgusted and truly angry at her friends. It took days to erase the scene from her mind and months before she could forgive them. Evidence of the sordid event was timelessly captured thanks to Kerry. Images were printed and went viral within a few days thanks to the internet and e-mail. Jane could only imagine what she looked like in the photos; red, cringed and crumpled encased in sweat stains.
The following morning she relived the R rated, age restricted, demoralizing events with a sharp and nervous pang and wondered how on earth she was ever going to look her parents again after last night’s escapade.