There’s a knock at the front door. Duncan starts to bark his head off. I’m in the middle of getting dressed. So, naturally I ask Gavin to answer the front door. But the Worm gives me that faraway look as if we don’t speak the same language. Even if he knew what I was saying, he’s still too short to reach the knob. Useless…but adorably so!
Thinking it could be Ed McMahon with Publisher’s Clearing House, I race to the front door half-naked (or half-dressed, depending on how you look at it) and expect to see a large check and balloons in my face. But all I got was an old man. No Ed. No check. No million dollars.
Does this lollipop make me look younger?
As if he plucked my cherries right off their tree, he muttered “Hi there. Is your mom or dad home?”
Immediately, I wonder if this guy is serious. I look him dead in the eyes for a hint of sarcasm. Nada. To make matters worse, the most mature thing I could retort was “What?”
“Are your parents home?”
Holy s#!t. He’s for real. (It’s California, people. So, I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he’s just smoked a blunt for his cataracts or high blood pressure.)
“No, my mommy’s not home. Sorry.” I close the door and don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
So I turn towards the hallway mirror, reassuringly pat myself on the back and say to the incredibly dashing and handsome creature before me “I’m grown! I may have the body of a prepubescent teenager, but I have underarm hair, nose hair, and even some curly ear hair! I ooze manliness and maturity!”
Then I dust off the guns, cock them both back and hit another incredible double biceps flex in the mirror. “Yeah, I’m a MAN dammit. No mistake about it. That old guy must have been blind.”
Me vs. Gavin 