Dinner with David's Parents

It was time for Carrie to meet David's parents. Neither her or David knew it yet, but she was a month pregnant with his child. She got dolled up, though she knew she was going to be embarrassed and defiled. He drove them to a chicken wing restaurant, where his mom and dad were both elbows deep in wings. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"So you're David's bitch?" his dad asked with a full mouth. Carrie smiled thinly.

"Yes, Mr. Giordano. Your son is quite ... something."

"You going to let him breed you? I want grandkids," his mom said, no more friendly than the dad.

"We're working on that, Mrs. Giordano." David was working through his wings, a torrent of torn chicken and sauce.

"Well, we aren't a big utensils family, so ... dig in," his dad said, watching Carrie expectantly. Carrie sighed. This table was already being gawked at by the entire restaurant. But she was famished. It was like she was eating for two, or something.