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Crazy Town
Josh dropped a bag on my kitchen table. "Here ya go."
Wearing my favorite Dodgers shirt, I jammed a bottle of water into my small backpack, getting ready to head out for the game.
"What's this?" I asked as I came back around the corner.
He didn't answer, but his grin kind of scared me. I opened the bag to find a large blue-and-white wig complete with spiky hair. Oh, shit. I'd forgotten that part of our bet. Whose idea was that anyway?
"Oh, God, no," I moaned, removing it from the bag. "You don't really expect me to wear this, do you?"
"A bet's a bet." Josh laughed then nodded toward the table. "There's more."
"More?" I grumbled as I started to rummage through the bag, soon pulling out face paint. Great. Fan-freaking-tastic. And a pair of little blue Dodgers shorts. "What on earth?" I asked, holding them up.
"I couldn't resist. They were half off."
"Did you wash them?"
"Actually, I did," Josh said proudly.
Sighing, I grabbed it all and headed for the bathroom. "Fine. Just fine," I huffed.
"And not just a little star on your cheek or something. The whole face, bro," Josh called out from the living room.
"Whatever!"
But I ended up painting my entire face because I was pretty sure that was part of our agreement. And technically, I did lose. I was the one who had caved first. Josh had miraculously stayed celibate this whole time.
The flip-flops were worth it, though. Or at least I told myself that while I shimmied into the tiny shorts. Oh, no. No way was I going to wear these.
"You ready yet?" Josh called. "We really need to get going."
I slammed the wig on my head, tucking my ponytail underneath, and headed into the living room. Josh took one look at me and burst into laughter.
"That's so classic. Oh, my God. I'll never forget this moment. Ever," he gasped out between his riotous laughs.
And before I knew it, he whipped out his phone, taking pictures of my humiliation.
"I'm not wearing these shorts, though."
"What? Why not?"
"Are you sure they were made for women even? I think they were meant for eight-year-olds." I grabbed a hunk of my ass that was hanging out.
They were actually super comfortable, the soft cotton material hugging me perfectly. But no way did I want my butt sticking to the seat at the stadium, so I headed back to the bathroom to change again.
Josh's laughter died down quickly. "Whatever you want to do."
And soon, we were off in an Uber because Josh said he planned to get wasted on my dime. And of course, I wasn't going to let him have all the fun. Plus, the only way to deal with this face paint and wig was to get drunk.
And that's exactly what we did. Not sloppy drunk. Just fun drunk. We ate way too much food that sopped up the beer—including multiple Dodger Dogs and a ten-dollar bag of warm, freshly made kettle corn.
"Dude, I don't usually share my food," I said as Josh reached in and grabbed a huge handful.
His hat low on his head, shielding him from the hot sun, he grinned at me. "So get me my own bag."
Damn, he was right. As part of our bet, everything was supposed to be on me today. Feeling too hot and lazy to get up, I put the bag between us. "Fine. Have all you want. I'll remember this when you take me to... wait. What game do you have to pay for?"
