Why Doesn't He Take Pansy To Dinner Anymore?

So, I have this "son"....a baby attorney who sublet office space in a law firm Pansy worked for. This worked out just great since Baby Attorney (BA) was not, technically, a co-worker. Leaving Pansy quite free to sexually harass and horrify him as often as Pansy felt the need AND no worries over lawsuits being filed against her rantings. Ahhh!!! And he could easily be made to blush. Over time he got "used" to me and my ways. But he never could see them coming. What a great target.

Once we all received new chairs at work. Very ergonomic. The Portugese Washer Woman kept referring to them as "origamic." I finally had to straighten her out on that one, that the actual word she wanted was "orgasmic." We hear BA sputtering in his office. We wimmin are having difficulties in adjusting the chairs, so BA helps out by getting all manly and adjusting the chairs. I ask him later about how he did that.

Pansy: BA! What did you do to get those chairs the right height?
BA: I twisted the adjustment knob underneath.
Pansy: Oh. Like this? (makes a circular, twisting motion with her hand)
BA: Yes.
Pansy: Well, now I understand why we wimmin couldn't get it figured out. We are way more used to doing it like this. (makes a jacking off motion with her hand)
BA: Gaaaaahhhhh!!! (closes/slams his office door)

For a time I worked in the fine jewelry section of a department store (yes I did, too!) and had the usual employee discount on anything in the entire store. BA needed a new suitcase so we went to the store on our lunch hour to select one. I told him I would buy it, that the discount would show up later on my monthly statement and that he could just reimburse me then.

We are in the store buying the chosen suitcase and the cashier is narrating as she goes "10% sale price, extra 5% for buying today (extra discount day) and the total is...." This is how it should be. I would get the additional 40% on my statement. But BA doesn't remember that detail and tried several times to tell the cashier "what about the employee discount?" I practically have to stomp his foot to get him to shut up already because, of course, it is not kosher to be using my employee discount for other people. Like that's never been done before! It is such a charade, but we must play it.

FINALLY, stupidass BA gets a clue that I want him to shut up. But now he's thinking he can get in a little payback. He says (loudly) "Thanks, Mom." To the cashier he says "My mom is buying this for my birthday. Today is my birthday. Thanks again, Mom!" And, truly, coming off as so stupid and lame that the sales clerk looks long and hard at me and then him and then me again. I know she was thinking "That poor woman. She's going to be burdened with that Special Needs boy forever." OR! She could have been thinking "That woman is some kind of a major slutty whore. How could she be old enough to be that man's mother? I wouldn't be surprised if they are fucking each other. They are both disgusting." We escape the store and he laughs at his cleverness. Forgetting, again, that Pansy plays Serious HardBall when it comes to Paybacks.

Soon thereafter, we are all out together for our somewhat bimonthly evening of eating/drinking/catching up with each other nonsense. Attendees are the usual suspects: Me, Portugese Washer Woman, Sexy Mexican and BA. A couple years earlier us 3 women had started wearing matching clothing as pretend mother-daughter getups. For this particular dinner I asked the girls to wear our newest blouse acquisition: it was a nice, lacy blouse that snapped up the entire front. Just to look dorky and make it easy for BA to find the 3 of us in the restaurant. And to set up my payback.

I wait until we have been eating and drinking for some time. And the restaurant is full. I then stand up and tap my glass. The other diners respectfully pay attention to our charming quartet of people. I loudly (you know how loud I can be) go into a sweet little speech:

"I just want you all to know that my 3 children here have taken me out to dinner tonight for my birthday. (polite applause) And, my son here.....stand up, honey (he complies...what an idiot). My son gave me a lovely t-shirt for my birthday. The problem is, I really don't know where I can properly wear this t-shirt. Perhaps some of you folks might help me out."

I then rip open my lacy, "cover" blouse (for which those snaps were so wonderfully convenient to do this maneuver) to reveal a t-shirt that BA had, in actual fact, given me for my birthday a couple months earlier. It is a black t-shirt with a white chalk outline design of two dogs humping each other and the words "Copulation. The Mating Season."

I continue to loudly say: "For those of you who cannot see the t-shirt clearly, it says on it "Copulation. The Mating Season." Now, what kind of a son would give that kind of a t-shirt to his mother? Especially since I am a widow now."

BA went redder than Pansy's hair. The restaurant crowd, smart people that they are, realized it was all a joke at BA's expense and laughed mightily. I wonder if BA is still enjoying his suitcase.