"C'mon dawg, ya know I hate things like dat," I moaned while my friend Royce was helping me put the tuxedo on.
"So do I, Marsh, but we gotta do it."
"Ugh..." I growled. That damned tux was too tight and I was feeling like if someone had put me in a steel vice.
"It's-"
"It's Shannon's big night. I know," I finished his sentence, knowing exactly what he was going to say.
"Yeah... I still wonder how she came up with dat idea..."
"Me too, man. She is surrounded by rappers and suddenly decides to host a masquerade ball? In Detroit! I gotta admit it, dawg, ya wife is weird," I said while staring at the mirror. God, I looked terrible.
I want my comfy XXL pants and hoodie back, please.
"At least it's for a charity," he shrugged and got me out of that damned tuxedo. "Wait, I think I have a bigger size."
He opened one huge door in his bedroom that led to his and his wife's closet:
"What color do ya want?"
"I don't care, man, something that doesn't make me look like a fuckin' idiot."
"I think I got the perfect one, dawg," he yelled and I heard the clacking of clothes hangers, followed by the loud thump of falling shoes and boxes. "Goddammit! I made a mess here!"
I laughed. "Shannon is gonna kill yo ass."
"Shut up," he got out and threw a suit at me. It was made out of dark blue striped fabric, and to be honest, it didn't look that bad as the previous one.
"Let's hope this one fits," I mumbled under my nose while putting it on.
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
"How's that, man?" I posed for Royce.
"Now that's what I am talkin' about," he nodded his head in agreement. "Now let's hurry the fuck up because the ball is startin' in 20 minutes and we gotta be there earlier."
"Alright, alright, man," I sat down on the bed and tied my black leather shoes. I got one last look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I wasn't lookin' that bad, I thought and started posin' like those models on the covers of magazines like Vogue or whatever.
"Don't forget them masks, man," he pointed at the two masquerade masks that were laying on the bed untouched.
"Yeah, whatever," I grabbed mine and got out of the bedroom. "I'm waitin' ya at your car."
"Alright, coming in a minute," Royce said and fixed his bowtie. It was so weird seeing us so fancy-schmansy, we were like two men from a completely parallel universe.
I went downstairs, said bye to Christine the maid who was cookin' something deliciously smelling' and headed to the garage where Royce's Porsche was parked. I sat on the hood of the red car and opened my smartphone to check if there were some news:
