Guilty Pleasures

“Caught at center field! The Mets lead 1-0 in the fifth.”

Ramon strategically placed the can of Bud on his belly and reached over to grab a slice of pie.

The sound of the deadbolt turning at his front door had Ramon bolt upright. He grabbed the beer and box of pizza and ran to the adjacent bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

What was Julie doing home this early?

After spending two weeks on a ‘rejuvenating’ nutritarian diet, Ramon had needed a break. Not that Julie would ever understand.

Doctor Swanson thinks you’re a ticking time bomb, honey!

Doctor Swanson wasn’t the one stuck living on rabbit feed.

The front door slammed shut and he heard her footsteps approach.

Ramon shoved the pizza below the bed along with the beer. But there was nothing he could do about the waft of melted cheese and fried meat that filled the room.

Ramon’s mind drew a blank as he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for his lapse in judgement. All he could think of was the disappointment in her eyes as he failed her once again.

The knob began to turn.

“Don’t come in!”

Too late.

“I’m sorry. I -”

A large man in blue overalls stood at the door absorbing the scene, beer-soaked shirt and all.

“Uhm, sir, your wife put in a maintenance order. Is this a bad time?”