Chapter 8- John

I never wanted to marry a John.

Of course I was thinking too far. I did that sometimes, but only in private. He'd told us his name while shaking hands with the band. No family name, just a "I'm John, how are you."

As the lights from the highway flickered into the band van, I stole a glance at our hitchhiker. Unfortunately he turned at the exact same moment and I was trapped without a chance to quickly look away without looking like a complete idiot.

Uncomfortable, I coughed awkwardly and broke the silence with a mortifying squeak: "So, John...if that is your real name." Two things were very, very wrong at this point. Firstly, I was going for a much lower pitch...something along the lines of a purring Marilyn Monroe, but I came out sounding like an awkward turkey. Secondly, I was sure nobody had ever picked the lamest line to put behind "So, John,", and I had set the precedence for my repeated death by embarrassment for the rest of my life.

My thought processes had left the moment hanging too long, and my pause had more than become pregnant. It had been knocked up twice and ended up spawning an entire van-full of evil zombie turkeys.

"Yo, Clo," Jacie's arm reached over to give me a poke in the shoulder "you alright? You kinda stopped talking mid sentence."