Of Course I Do

The hotel's restaurant had a surprisingly broad selection, and by the time I had finished browsing the menu, my mind was more on my hunger than on my inheritance. Not wanting to break the bank, I ordered a burger and salad, to which the woman on the phone informed me that it would be about twenty minutes. Hanging up the phone, I absentmindedly play with the ring on my left ring finger, the finger normally reserved for a wedding band. Since I could hardly keep a girlfriend, there was no way I could have earned a wife, so I might as well put the finger to use.

Crossing the carpeted floor of the room, I flopped down on the bed, grab the remote control, and turn on the television. Broadcast television had really gone downhill in the past few years, leaning more toward cheaper productions like reality television, history documentaries, and talk shows. CLICK A home renovation show. CLICK A make-over show. CLICK A television psychologist talking to a dysfunctional family.

I paused my channel surfing and take in the scene. A middle aged father seemed to be upset over his son's choice of girlfriend, and you could see why. The father seemed to be very conservative, straight-laced, and held himself as if he was used to people deferring to him. Probably an executive for some big company. The son was a young man, probably around nineteen years old, in a pair of jeans and a button up shirt. The girlfriend, though, was something else. Her clothes screamed slut. Knee-high socks, a red plaid pleated skirt, a white top that barely contained her huge breasts. Her hair was blonde, worn in pigtails. Her big puffy lips sucked eagerly on a lollipop.

Oh yes, this girl knew what she had, and she was flaunting it.

I couldn't help it. My penis twitched beneath me as I lay on the bed.

"Son," the father was saying, "You can do better than her."

"Petunia is perfect!" the son whined, "We love each other!"

"Yeah, old man!" the girl cut in aggressively, "you, like, wouldn't understand!"

"Now, now," the host tried to cut in.

"Adam," the father said, turning red in the face, "she's just after your money. Look at her! She's putting on a show for you, just to get what she wants. Sure, she's attractive, but looks aren't everything!"

"Shut up!" the son shouted, "You can't stop our love!"

"But I can stop the money. If you don't break up, you're out of the will!"

I rolled my eyes at the melodrama that was unfolding before me. This type of show was ridiculous, over dramatized. The father was on a rant, standing directly in front of the slutty girlfriend, pointing at her, demeaning her.

Tired of the predictability of it all, I mumbled, "Oh stop it and kiss her already."

I felt a static shock in my left hand, then was surprised when the television got quiet. I looked from my hand to the screen and saw the father and the girlfriend standing in each other's embrace, arms wrapped around each other, lips locked in passion. The son was looking on in shock, but the kissing pair made no move to stop.

"Well, folks," the host said, clearing his throat, "I don't think any of us saw that coming. Let's break for commercial. When we come back, we will try to figure out what just happened."

I blinked in disbelief. Had I done that? Was that the power of the ring? Could it change things? People? What was this thing that I was wearing?

Before I could think further, the a knock came at the door. My room service had arrived.