the duvet cover

Dorkass is my old shopping buddy. Her taste tends to be dead-on, but more than that, she effortlessly fulfills the role I need her to fulfill.

I once badly wanted this Calvin Klein duvet cover. Unfortunately, it was priced like a Calvin Klein duvet cover, probably some $200 per ounce. I didn't get it. Time and again, she saw me admire it and not get it. And then finally, one day, the Bon marked it 10% off. It was still outrageously overpriced, and I was racked with doubt as I stood in line, clutching it to my chest, agonizing about whether I'd ever be able to afford a house. And Dorkass eased up to my ear.

"Do you loooove it?" she cooed.

"Yes."

"Do you ever do anything nice for yourself?"

"No," I said with a surprisingly straight face.

"You deserve this duvet cover. It's too beautiful not to get." And then she added the final nail. "John, if you get this duvet cover, the first woman who sees it will throw her legs open."

CUT TO:
INT. - JOHN'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

It's three days later, and the first woman to see the duvet cover is sleeping off mas tequila in my bed while I sleep on the couch. I'm sleeping fitfully when I hear the horrendous sound of tequila being evacuated in a hurry.

"rrrrrrRRRRRROOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWFFF!"

"Oh my God," I thought. "I hope that was in the bathroom."

It wasn't.

The next day, I went to work and collected Dorkass, making her come home with me to see the bright orange enchilada puke splatted all over my bed and, yes, the duvet cover.

"Wasn't quite what you promised me."