He was humble and well-spoken. Flowers for mom, a firm handshake for dad. The introduction was flawless.
Leaving her parents wanting more seemed like an excellent strategy so he dipped into his pants pocket because these lovebirds were making a graceful exit and getting on with their evening.
But his car keys weren’t the only thing that came tumbling out.
A small gold foil wrapper ended up unexpectedly in the middle of the living room floor.
His girlfriend turned crimson, her mother gasped, her father cleared his throat. Loudly.
“Big night?” he then asked.
Not anymore, old man.
Not anymore.
The Weekday One Hundred 