This is not a joke. It was the happiest moment of my life.

I was 45 years old and had just been through an absolute shit show of a few days. It all started when my boss walked in on me fucking a top client in the fourth floor family restroom of our office building.

We got busted because all of us-—me, the client, my boss, and his 12 year old niece–-had come to the fourth floor family restroom for the same reason: privacy. There weren’t any offices up there and we figured we’d have the place to ourselves. I didn’t lock the door.

I guess it was kind of a bad scene, me railing our biggest account over the shitter, because I got fired. My wife didn’t like too much. No, sir. She got all upset and said this was the last straw. I guess the other straws were getting pretty heavy and this one finally broke her back or something. I dunno, but she didn’t like it too much... or the fact that I was fucking Agnes again.

I tried to smooth things over. I said, “Hun, look, Dougie from next door can’t even fuck his wife! What do you want from me? If you don’t use it you lose it, ya know? I’m doin’ this for you, baby--for us.” But she wasn’t hearing it and basically told me to find a new place to live and to not come back for a real long time or maybe even ever. 

So here I am abandoned, out in the cold (it was early fall in northern Virginia), with everybody havin’ their panties in a wad over a simple misunderstanding, an unfortunate issue of bad timing in the fourth floor family restroom, when this young boy walks up. 

I look down at him and he’s looking up at me, probably eight or nine years old, and he asks, “Are you my dad?”

I pause for a moment, but then look him right in his eyes and say, “I am now Johnny. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

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