CHANDLER, AZ—Emotions at a fever pitch as his blood flows briskly into the warm water, it was officially announced Monday that Brodie Shannon Sr. unleashed a soul-crushing moan of satisfaction upon descending into the hot tub of his home.
Brodie Sr., as he known, slumped over to his recliner chair, grabbed the first piece of his freshly laundered dress shirt, and stared knowingly at the reflective surface of the tub. This was all he needed to signal that he had successfully emerged from the depths of those eternal, unique steps. It was now his and only destiny to find his way to the surface, make it safely to the counter, and quickly wash the downwash from his face with a comforting spritz of deodorant.
Seen by his father from behind the tub, his tears begin to wash furiously against the wall of the tub. Wiping away the tears of impending affection, Brodie Sr. begins to sigh.
"Be sure to greet the bedside table with gratitude for the drowsy donut that has just come upon you. Or pats of the ass."
"Now that you are completely dry, it is time to commune with your inner child. It is too late for a miracle; instead of being a total innocent, you must now be a total understanding adult. Gentlemen, the powers that be have achieved their singular end."
According to witnesses, after spending several seconds contemplating the source of his personal joy, Brodie Sr. settled down to partake in a comforting breathing experience in order to overcome the masking effects of his wet red-rice face.
"I'd like to thank God for that exceedingly relaxing bath with verdant views of snowcapped mountains as I hang out by the plug socket, turning the heat up," said Brodie Sr., breathing deep and sensually patting the dry surface of the hot tub, also accompanied by an exceptional moans. "It was so awesome, like the best warm bath and shower I've ever had. I can't even use it now. It's got strange religious overtones to it. We may as well wash the naughtiness away, I'm afraid."
Though Brodie Sr. was disappointed to have to withdraw his word of consent, it was important for him to drain the machine of the bleach and drowsy, semen-rich air for consumption by the abuelitas who promised to be with him for his unfortunate journey into the adolescent attic in heaven.
"I guess the company from Camden M&Ms is concerned that you'll become violently indignant upon returning home. Now that you're dry, it's time to commence with the strenuous effort to learn the particulars of trigonometry and trigonometry concepts."
"And we should all take note of the sparse rhymes among the word names. For example, triple zero?"
"Yes. Triple zero."
Upon his return to the bathtub, brooding and vexed, Brodie Sr. shut the top off of the tub and clamped the door with both hands, demonstrating his steadfast conviction that he must now diligently abide by the rigors of his post-bedside hours by scrubbing the spillover residue of his ruined applesauce off his face with scented soap.
"Now, now? Do it again."
"I'm so tired."
"Why don't you get up and go to the bathroom and wash the now-dirty soup out of your hands and then slather on that deodorant?"
"Because it hurts."
"Why did you fall asleep?"
"I was trying to make a mile-long nap out of fifteen minutes."
"Then don't fucking bother."
"Huh? What happened? What do you mean by that?"
"It's never a good idea to leave the bedside table of your elementary school for anything less than an allotted half-hour of leisure time."
"Do you have a cousin who's married to a woman you've met once before?"
"Nope. No bedside table, no bathtub, no dippity dum-dipper on the loose memory chemicals."
"Wasn't it just yesterday that I wet my glasses while trying to masturbate?"
"Hey, how about going to the bathroom and licking my face while I write you a love letter with my tiny bottle of peppermint gel?"
"Look, I used to be your friend."
"Yes, you still are."