Big Ass Legs

Mom went to my cousin Rachel’s dance recital, so Dad and I ordered pizza and watched college basketball and burped without even saying excuse me.  He wouldn’t let me stay up later because he said he and mom are “on the same team about this,” so I asked him if he knew what exasperated means and when he said “yes” I said I do too.  Obviously, he laughed because I’m hilarious and charming.

After I brushed my teeth, I closed my bedroom door but I wasn’t inside of it because I knew Dad wouldn’t check on me until much much later.  He fell asleep on the couch and I heard him snoring through the music, so I thought it would be safe to watch TV through the banister for at least a little.

Dad was watching the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show and those girls have like no clothes on.  It was crazy!  Mom would have been like, “Please change the channel right now!”  She always says please, even when she’s yelling.  The ladies were pretty and were wearing cool costumes and wings and I could see their boobs, but I felt weird about it.

So I went to my bed and went to sleep and didn’t even get caught.

I think Apples is prettier anyway.  She has these giant legs, which my friend Jamal calls “big ass legs,” which I can’t say out loud to parents but I think it in my head all the time.  When Jamal says Apples has big ass legs, I say I know and then my eyes get really wide and we high five.

Apples has a pretty face but nobody notices because they’re all too busy looking at her legs.  I noticed how pretty she is when she sang a solo in church and those big ass legs were hidden behind the dais.  She sang that song that goes “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will rise again.”  It’s very matter of fact but a little spooky if you think about it.

She sang it very nicely and when she finished, she did the weird smile that I do when strangers tell me I look handsome.  It’s like, “Stop looking at me, but thank you very much.”  Then we all looked at those big ass legs as she walked back to her seat.

I would trust Apples to carry bushels of fruit, or her own luggage, or to lift a corner of the couch if my head was under it.  Apples looks like she doesn’t need a boy for any of those purposes.

I know Apples plays soccer, where even more girls have those big ass legs.  When they run sprints, their thighs go crazy and look like the ripples in the low end after Dad does a can opener in the deep end.  He always yells out ‘cannon ball!’ but it’s a can opener because one leg is straight.  But it sounds silly to yell out CAN OPENER!  He could always just do a cannon ball and then he wouldn’t be lying so loud.

I think all those girls on the soccer team are the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, except the one who has really short hair because when she’s on the field she looks like a boy, kind of.  I wouldn’t want to point her out to my friend as my girlfriend because he’d be like “Really?” and then laugh and ask me if she had a wiener.  But she’s a really good midfielder and she has a pretty smile and really strong legs.  But I think Apples might have bigger legs because she plays defense and has to kick the ball really hard and smash it away from the skinny forwards.

I get to watch their games because our house is right next to the high school and I don’t even have to cross the street, so I can’t really get in trouble unless I’m late for dinner or whine that I missed the end of the game.  Mom hates whiners.

Dad asked me why I’m always watching the soccer team and not football, don’t I want to follow my old man and rush for one thousand yards.  I told him I don’t want concussions, and Mom smiled and said, “Well at least we know where he gets his good sense.”

Then Dad rolled his eyes at her and squeezed my shoulder and told me to do some pushups.  So I did, and then I did some burpees, which are these crazy pushup jumping explosions that Dad does.  He said they looked good but that I had to really ex-PLODE, so I shot him in the chest with my Nerf gun.  So he grabbed me by my socks and started dragging me around on the wood floor and we couldn’t even stop laughing.  Then Mom yelled at us for roughhousing because she hates roughhousing almost as much as she hates whining.

But I really dodged a bullet there because the real reason I watch the soccer team is because I think I love Apples, and I can’t keep my eyes off her big legs.  I would definitely tell my friends that Apples was my girlfriend, and they would still ask, “Really?” but in a very different tone.

One time we saw Apples at the mall and she was wearing tight jeans with a hoodie and she looked so different.  Her hair wasn’t in a ponytail, and she was eating an ice cream cone.  Some Latino boy she was with took a bite of her ice cream, even though he had a cup of his own and she looked at him with big eyes and her jaw dropped, but she was still smiling at him.  I thought that was stupid, and she looks way better in a ponytail anyway.

If I took Apples on a date, we would go to Castellano’s because everyone likes Italian and Dad says that place is “good value.”  I’m not cheap, I’m just not made of money.  After dinner, I would order us a cannoli and a tiramisu and she’d think I was a real class act.  I’ll bet Apples is a class act and would only kiss me on the cheek, at most.  But if she wanted, I’d get to second base with her, which is touching her boobs.

Daddy says Apples won’t get married because no man would want to get trapped between those big ass legs.  Mommy stared real mean at Daddy when he said that but I already know what sex is because we watch sitcoms and have broadband internet.  I told Daddy that isn’t nice, and I would marry Apples because she’s so pretty and athletic and gave me a candy cane when she said “Peace be with you” at church.

Mommy gave me a scoop of pudding and said, “That’s a lovely thing to say.”

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