The French Toast Saga

Part Three - My Girl Likes To Party All The Time!

“Where’s my French toast?” Casey asked as I walked to the bathroom.

“What?” I said groggily.

“My French toast, where is it?” She asked again with  innocence in her voice.

“Give me a minute” I grumbled as I opened my fridge to take out the eggs and milk.

It had been a four long days since her arrival, and I was in hell. Casey was driving me crazy. She was a slob having turned my living room into a landfill of clothes and other junk. Her bathroom habits where deplorable. Every day I found my towel on the floor while hers took its place on the rack. Dishes were beginning to stack, and opened containers of food surrounded my kitchen counter.

"Casey, since you're staying here can you at least wash the dishes?" I asked earnestly.

She looked at me puzzled, like a lion looks at an ant, and said “Why don’t I just clean the dishes I used?”

As I began to protest, Casey walked past me in her thong causing my mind to go stupid. She would do this all the time. Constantly walking around my apartment in her underwear or clearly not wearing a bra under her shirt. She would wink and peck me on the cheek when my face betrayed my anger. But any overture at evolving our relationship was met with resistance.

“I want to take things slow” she whined. “You need to conquer a woman”





My feminist mind began to protest, and she hugged me tightly. Her full breasts against my chest.

“Sure” I said meekly.

I soon realized Casey had the I.Q of a raisin. She got lost to my apartment five times from the subway. She had no clue how to do her own laundry. The kicker was when while watching a documentary of the Civil War, she turned and said “David, who did we fight in the Civil War?”

“How’s the child?” Leanne asked sarcastically over the phone.

“Don’t call her that..” I replied annoyed.

“David! You need to grow a pair” Leanne hollered at me.

“But…but…boobs” I stuttered back.

“You are a jack ass..” Leanne said dryly.

Leanne was right. I knew it, but I could not stop myself from letting Casey walk all over me. Things took a turn for the worse on Halloween. Casey had made plans to go to a Brooklyn costume party with friends from Jersey. I was exhausted because of the little sleep I got taking care of the giant baby. So I opted to stay home while she partied with hot girls.

“Will you take me to Brooklyn?” Casey asked with puppy dog eyes.

“No” I grumbled “All you have to do is take the five train to the L and you're in Brooklyn”

“But I’m scared” she whined.

 “Oh my God, Casey! You’ll be fine!” I yelled exhausted.

“Ok” she said meekly.

Thirty minutes later Casey knocked on my door.

“What?” I asked defeated.

“My friend Rose wants to talk to you” she said handing me the phone.

“Hello?” I said placing the phone to my ear.

“You’re not going to take her to Brooklyn?” Rose asked alarmed.

“No, she'll be fine” I answered

“I'm concerned for her safety, but if you feel so strongly about it then fine” Rose said in an accusing tone.

“Fine” I said defeated and handed the phone back to Casey.

I looked at Casey and laid out the plan. We had a maximum of two hours to get ready and get on the train. One minute more and one train ride would turn to three. Not to mention an hour commute would turn to two. She agreed to the time table, and I laid down to get some sleep while she got ready.

I closed my eyes, and darkness welcomed me.

“David? Wake up I’m ready” Casey said peeking through my bedroom door.

“Okay, what time is it?” I said pouring myself out of bed.

“It’s eleven” she replied matter of factly

“What?!” I screamed. We had missed our window by an hour. “I told you to wake me in an hour tops!”

“I know, but I couldn’t find the right scrunchy for my outfit” she said shyly.

Twenty minutes later, I sat quietly furious on the train. Sensing my rage, Casey rubbed my leg and put her head on my shoulder. The blatant attempt at manipulation only enraged me further. I wanted to strangle that frat boy. By the third transfer, I was resigned to my fate. It would be a four hour commute round trip. Once we got to the L, I looked at Casey, and made her promise to call me when she got to the party. She nodded and jumped on the train.

I guess since the L train is not scary since its full of white kids I thought to myself.

Once I arrived back home, I looked at my phone for messages. I had no voice mails. I called Casey and got no response. My mind quickly began to panic. I started to picture Caseys lifeless body in a ditch. Every episode of C.S.I flashed through my head. I began to hear her mothers sobs and questions of why I did not protect her baby.

Needless to say, I could not sleep. I called Casey numerous times, staring at the phone for any sign of life. My patience paid off at five am. When she burst through the door, giggling like a mad woman.

“Oh David! I had so much fun! Rose and her friends were so cool!” She sang.

“Yeah that’s great GET TO BED!” I snapped.

I stormed off to my room. Casey oblivious to my feelings. I threw myself in bed, content that the worst was over. I was sadly mistaken. The worst was yet to come…