On Tuesday night, I finally mustered up the courage to ask the fair Bridgette for her dainty hand in marriage. I was incredibly nervous and excited to finally pop the question, after years of dreading the day I would have to propose to a girl. My heart was racing, my palms were clammy, and my mouth tasted faintly like taco salad, for reasons I cannot discern.
I was able to calm myself by visualizing the event. “What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked myself. As I saw it, the evening was going to play out one of the following ways:
-Bridgette would say ‘yes’, and we would cry and hug and laugh and snuggle and squat.
-Bridgette might say ‘no’, causing me to eviscerate myself before her very eyes in a failed effort to win her back out of sympathy and revulsion.
-Bridgette would say ‘yes’, but then accidentally punch me in the groin, causing me to keel over and vomit in agony. This would be a funny story that we would laugh about for years until realizing that it made me impotent, so we would decide to adopt, but an unlikely paperwork snafu results in our adopting a newborn walrus which we promptly harvest for it’s delicious meat.
-Bridgette would say ‘no’, citing her disdain for social studies, Star Wars, British bands, and tall men. In turn, I ask her what the hell she’s been doing with me for the last 14 months, to which she would reply that she thought I was actually comedian Steve Martin.
-Bridgette would say ‘yes’, and would cheer me on as I train for the All-Valley Karate tournament to take on Johnny and the Cobra Kai.
-Bridgette would say ‘no’ and be devoured alive by ravens.
-Bridgette would say ‘yes’, but as I am joyfully hugging her, I notice a small computer chip lodged in her back. Further inquiry on the matter would reveal that she is an android created to allow aliens from the Nebulon Sector to study human behavior. In response to this development, I would thrust the pole of an American flag through her temple, and her final transmission to her superintelligent creators would be my grim warning, “If you don’t like America, then move out.”
-Bridgette would say ‘no’, causing me to go on a troubling and unnatural binge of eating popcorn balls until I start uncontrollably blowing mud out my butt.
Turns out I was wrong about my guesses. We actually had a lovely night that I didn’t manage to ruin with my awfulness. Oh well, there’s still a wedding day I can completely mess up. There’s hope for me yet.