Love in the afternoon

“Well, boy howdy! You sure you ain’t pulling my leg, woman?”

“Heck no, I ain’t pulling your leg! I told you one of these days I’d win something. We’re leavin’ for Hollywood on Valentine’s Day. We get to stay in one of them fancy schmancy hotels and ride around in big ole stretch limousine, just like on The Beverly Hillbillies!”

“Well, slap a dress on me and call me Elly May! If this ain’t cause for celebratin', then I don’t know what!”

Eddie reached over Baby Charlene’s playpen to the tape deck and hit play. As the sweet sounds of Journey filled the trailer’s musty living room, he grabbed Francine by the waist and spun her around—which ain’t as easy as it sounds, considering she had a bun in the oven. Number six. Or maybe six and seven, if Fran had twins again. Shoot, that girl was as fertile as the banks of the mighty Mississippi.

“Don’t stop believin',” Eddie sang as Fran giggled.

“Now cut that out, Eddie!” she squealed. “You know what Journey does to me.”

“Hold on to feelin',” Eddie continued, watching the light from his prized neon Pabst Blue Ribbon sign sparkle in Fran’s eyes. “C’mon, baby doll. You can’t get no more pregnant than you already is.”

Fran looked up into Eddie’s bloodshot bedroom eyes and sighed when he wiggled his Wrangler-clad ass at her. He sure wasn’t the sharpest tack in the tool shed, but he was all she had. The father of four of her children. (The oldest, Julianne, was the product of a motorcycle rally and a bottle of Southern Comfort, but what Eddie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Unless it involved power tools.) But she’d be damned if she’d let him get away with it any longer, and she was tired of chasing him up trees with the tire iron.

On the morning of their trip, things went bad right from the start.

Eddie had stayed out all night at the One-Eyed Jack playing in the weekly dart tournament. After his sixth Coors Light, he had pegged Rusty Cumberland in the back of the head with a dart. Rusty, still sore after losing that mechanical bull-riding contest in ‘92, had smacked Eddie across the face with Earl Jenkinson’s favorite pool cue, causing Eddie’s seventh Coors to go flying into Ty Anderson’s face, and general chaos ensued.

So when Eddie dragged himself out of bed, hung over, face throbbing and marked with a huge red welt, the last thing he needed to see was his brother-in-law. Randy drove them to the airport, yakking the whole way about how Burt Reynolds got screwed out of the Best Actor Oscar for Cannonball Run II. Not that Eddie disagreed, mind you, but he didn’t need to get all worked up about it again at 8 a.m.

Then, waiting in the security checkpoint line at the terminal, an undercover cop mistook Eddie for a small-time meth dealer who just happened to have the same Dale Earnhardt commemorative NASCAR jacket. The cop apologized later, but Eddie thought the body cavity search at gunpoint was a gross misuse of police power. After their plane landed in Los Angeles, the limo ride from LAX to the hotel had cheered Eddie up a little, but he was still as cranky as a wet cat when he and Fran got to their room.

“C’mon, Eddie, let’s go get something to eat,” Fran said as she plopped her duct-taped suitcase down on the bed.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, woman. Shoot, I can’t even sit down.”

“We’re goin', Eddie, and that’s final,” Fran said in a steely voice. “We’re in Hollywood, and I ain’t gonna sit around this here hotel room watchin’ TV. So get your sore, worthless butt up and take me to lunch.”

Eddie was about to protest, but the look on Fran’s face—meaner than a prison warden, but not quite as vicious as a mercenary—made him shut his mouth. Well, mostly. It’s hard to shut your mouth all the way with a huge wad of Skoal stuck in your bottom lip. But he kept quiet on the whole limo ride until it pulled up to a gray concrete building with Fox Television Center written on the side.

“Hey, is this one of them theme restaurants, like that Planet Hollywood?”

Fran didn’t say a peep as she hoisted herself out of the car, and Eddie followed her through the front doors and into the lobby. A young man wearing a headset greeted them as they walked in and ushered them back into the building, where he clipped little microphone packs to their belts and told them to act natural.

“This is the weirdest restaurant I ever saw, Fran,” Eddie said as the young man pushed them through an opening in a curtain.

“Today, on a special Valentine’s Day episode of Barry Swinger: Dave knew Cindy was a bisexual when they got together, but he never imagined she’d cheat on him … with his sister! Then, Jason thinks Dominic is the man of his dreams. But that dream may become a nightmare when he learns what Dominic’s been doing behind his back … for money! But first, let’s meet Eddie and Fran from Reno, Nevada. It’s been 15 years since they said ‘I do,’ but Fran says Eddie still says it all the time … to other women! Come on out here, Fran.”

Fran waddled slowly out onto the set and settled into a chair while Eddie stared at her in shock.

“So, Fran,” Swinger said. “How did this all start?”

“Well, Barry,” Fran began. “I knew he was cheatin’ on me before we got married, but I figured that once we was hitched, he would change. I shoulda known better when my daddy caught him makin’ out with the maid of honor.”

The audience booed.

“But when I went into labor at the reception he was so sweet I just had to forgive him,” Fran continued. “Six months later I found out he was sleepin’ with one of the waitresses at Hooter’s, and then it was the new check-out girl at Wal-Mart. Now my momma says she saw Eddie comin’ out of the Super 8 with Linda.”

“Who’s Linda?” Swinger asked.

“My best friend!”

More booing.

“Let’s bring out Eddie and hear his side of the story,” Swinger said jovially. “Come on out, Eddie!”

Eddie felt himself being pushed out on stage amidst a chorus of angry booing and more than a little snickering. As he took his seat next to Fran, he cursed himself for wearing the jeans with the rubbed-worn hole in the crotch. At least he was wearing underwear today, he thought.

“What would you like to tell Eddie today, Fran?” Swinger asked.

“Eddie, I brought you here to tell you that I ain’t puttin’ up with your cheatin’ ways no more,” Fran said. “If you can’t do right by me, I’m kicking you out for good!”

The audience cheered heartily.

“What have you got to say for yourself, Eddie?” Swinger asked when the cheering died down.

“Well, shoot, the only reason I slept with that check-out girl is ‘cause Fran was havin’ sex with my brother!”

The audience erupted into laughter and started spontaneously chanting, “Barry! Barry! Barry!” Swinger grinned like a demonic ringmaster and waited for the mob to calm down.

“Were you having sex with Eddie’s brother, Fran?” he asked.

“Yeah, but that don’t count. I was only havin’ sex with him to get back at Eddie for the Hooter’s girl.”

“Well, I was only havin’ sex with the Hooter’s girl ‘cause you made me sleep out in the shed!” Eddie retorted.

“Nobody calls the Macho Man Randy Savage a pansy and gets away with it under my roof, mister!” Fran screamed as the audience went nuts again.

“All right, let’s see what the audience has to say,” Swinger interjected, handing the microphone to a frat guy in a baseball cap.

“Yeah, my question is for Eddie. What’s up with that mullet, dude?”

Eddie leapt from his chair but was stopped mid-flight by a team of burly security guards, who held his arms behind his back until he settled. Swinger handed the microphone to a young woman.

“Girl, you need to kick him to the curb! He ain’t nothin’ but a scrub! Drop the zero and get with a hero! Talk to the hand ‘cause the face don’t wanna hear it! It’s all good in the hood …”

Swinger wrenched the microphone out of the girl’s hand as the audience cheered. “So, Eddie, what do you have to say to your wife?”

Eddie looked over at Fran and was consumed by remorse.

“Aw, honey bunny, you know I love you,” Eddie said tenderly. “I can change! Just give me one more chance, and I promise I won’t cheat on you no more.”

Fran’s eyes welled up with tears and she reached out to embrace him. “I love you too, sugar britches! Let’s never fight again.”

“Awwww …” said the audience.

“Let’s take a commercial break, but don’t go away! Next up, Steve is going to explain why he’s been sleeping with Donna … and her mother!"