Oops, Were Dads' • Phan

An Unexpected Arrival

Alright, listen up and listen good, because I'm only going to say this once; I was not expecting to become a father at the age of 23, nor was I expecting to fall in love with my best friend because of the brat. It was, to say the least, unplanned on my part.

Considering the circumstances, however, things could have gone a lot worse.

We were at a soiree, Phil and I. The tops of BBC had thrown the radio crew a Thanks-For-Not-Being-A-Total-Flop-Of-A-Radio-Show-Here's-Some-Free-Tequilas party. Honestly neither of us were sure why we even went, as both my friend and me hated these sorts of things and are, rather frankly, rubbish dancers. I guess we should have expected to just sit at the corner of the bar, swirling our untouched cocktails with apathy, and watching as the rest of the staff were partying their drunk asses off on the dance floor. And even though it was pretty damn funny watching our technician Peter doing the electric slide on top of practically every table in the bar, it did nothing to lift my foul mood and judging by the way Phil was scowling into his drink he wasn't having a grand ol' time either.

The women shamelessly- and most likely drunkenly- flirting with us and trying to get us to dance was probably the cherry on top of this shit-hole icecream sunday. Right, because what I really want to do on a saturday night is bump uglies with some sleaze in a bar filled with other sleaze's grinding against each other to some shitty Andy Grammer song that will get stuck in my head for at least a week. One girl's breath reeked so heavily of whiskey it was a surprise I didn't get inebriated by the sheer huff of her breath.

But nothing made the blood in my veins curdle more than watching some blonde tramp trail her filthy hands up and down Phil's frame. The look of sheer disgust on my friend's face would have you think the woman just hauled herself out after falling into a manure farm. Poor Phil, the polite dork that he was, did his best to shove her off as urbane as possible, but it was as if she was superglued to Phil's trousers. It was times like this where I had to step in for my very gay but too timorous to say so flatmate and tell the relentless whore to fuck off. And I would have done just that too if it weren't for tramp #2 trying to suck a hickey on the side of my neck.

In the end it was Phil who came to my rescue, as he had somehow broken free of the unwanted lap dance the other girl was trying to perform on him, quickly grabbing my wrist and pulling us away from the two chlamydia sisters, shouting some vague excuse like "I need to use the bathroom, Dan, help me." Before dragging me all the way to the back exit and out into the crisp night air.

Phil, once he seemed to know that they were safe from catching any diseases, let go of my arm and exasperatedly sighed. "Thank god that's over."

I couldn't help but laugh. "That was harrowing enough for me; you, however, looked like you were about to projectile vomit all over her glittering breasts."

Phil's face turned a sickening shade of green. "No, please, stop before I actually vomit."

Snickering, I said "Alright there, Fonzie, let's go home and soak our bodies in hand sanitizer before we get yeast infections."

"Again, Dan, please filter yourself."

It was mid October and the air was frigid, biting at the tips of our noses; causing Phil's cheeks to turn a pretty shade of pink on his pale skin. We walked back home in silence, the only sounds that penetrated through the night was the light pitter patter of rain hitting the concrete beneath our feet and the faint sounds of sirens somewhere in the distance. All I wanted to do at this point was flop onto the couch, wrap a blanket around me, and watch some dumb anime with Phil until we both fall asleep on opposite sides of the couch. Those nights happen to be my favorite, slipping into slumber with the sound of my best friend breathing right next to me. Nothing could be better.