Free Condoms

Daily Writing Prompt –  8 March 18

Write a conversation between two people about an inappropriate birthday gift.

“Mom.  Please stop.”  My almost adult son facepalmed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.  “You have to stop taking condoms from the Cancer Centre.”

“Why?  They are free?”

“For you cancer patients.  You don’t have to outfit a squad.”

The sign in the bloodwork unit says that unprotected sex isn’t recommended for up to seven days after chemotherapy.  The centre makes free condoms available in cookie jars here and in the Chemo Lounge.

I can’t leave the hospital without grabbing a fist full … or two.  Once, a lady asked me if they were candy.  I smiled and said “No, these condoms aren’t flavoured.”  My best friend/handler fell off the waiting room chair, laughing.

As I waltzed out of today’s bloodwork, I grabbed the condoms and winked at the nurse.  The cancer team have become accustomed to my crazy ways and tell me they stock up the jars just for me.  No one else cleans them out of condoms.  Imagine that!

“Happy Birthday, Matt!” I exclaimed as I dumped a pile on my son’s lap.  “Don’t say I never got you anything.  And don’t use them all at once!”

“Oh God, Mom.  Really?”  His head is down to hide his face under the rim of his ball cap.  Poor kid can’t look anyone in the eye.

“Bet no one else’s Mom brings home condoms from the Cancer Centre!”

“I can buy my own condoms.  This is really weird.”

“You DO use protection, right?  How come I have never found condom wrappers in the garbage?”

Matt figures that I only way to shut me up is to step it up a notch.  He opened the purple and pink condom packet with his teeth and extracted the condom.  Pinching the end, he stretched it and blew it up.  And pushed it at me.

“Matthew!  That is completely inappropriate!” I squealed, running ahead of him to the cafeteria.  We have an hour to kill between my blood tests and a visit with my Oncologist.

My son and I got in line for Timmies to order lunch and coffee.  As I pulled my wallet out of my purse, at least ten condoms spilled onto the floor.  With as much grace as I could muster, I picked them up and turned around to smile at the line of stunned people behind me.

Matt rolled his eyes to the ceiling and said “This is why we can’t have nice things…”

True story.

The Fox

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