The only rule is that you have to pick one of the immediate Conners women living in the house. Saying “I’d F* Jackie” is out. Every guy wants to tag Laurie Metcalf; that’s like saying I wanna bang Megan Fox. Uh duh. (F* Jackie… Baba booey).
This might surprise you, but I’m going with Darlene.
So we’re hanging out, watching a Bulls game. She’s draped in the crochet-throw from the back of the couch. I get wood. She then mentions that Derrick Rose can push the ball, but he’s got no jumper from the right of the key. I lose wood.
“Do you want some,” she says, holding up the throw. “Oh, I want some. But I ain’t talking about a blanket…if you know what I mean,” I say, then growl like a wild cat. She rolls her eyes and stands up. “Easy, Casanova. I was gonna give you some anyway.”
We tiptoe upstairs when another door opens. Becky! “Darlene, you have a boy here? Oh my God, I’m telling mom.” “Go ahead and tell mom,” Darlene barks back. Becky rolls her eyes. “You shoulda stuck with David,” she says under her breath.
Minus a lecture on how my brand of Jimmyz aren’t bio-degradable, the sex is actually amazing. She won’t do it with the lights on, but she’s real into trying whatever. After we finish, she sparks up a j and asks if I want to “take a toke off of this refer.”
Turns out that wasn’t just bad writing; they actually talk like that in Lanford.
After taking the pot with Darlene, Roseanne makes me the best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had. I’m smitten.
The reception is down at the Elk’s Lodge. The party only set me back 600 bucks since Roseanne got the Lanford Luncheonette to cater the whole thing.
The highlight of the night is me dancing with the bride’s sister (you haven’t lived until you’ve whispered into Laurie Metcalf’s ear, “God, you smell amazing”).
Then, the mistake of a lifetime.
I’m three hours in to an epic Conners poker game. It’s me, Leon, Arnie and Mark. I’m down big, six bucks, but I’m holding a straight. Arnie calls. “I’ll see your 2.75, and I’ll raise you a buck.” He knows I don’t have that kind of money. “Then put up a night with Rosie…” A night with my wife? The most indecent proposal… but I’m holding a straight. Done. I throw down. So does he. Full house, deuces over kings.
Roseanne doesn’t take the news well. I get the boot. Once in a while I bump into her at the Firehouse on Bingo Night, or at the dollar store on Rt. 7. She has a look of scorn like you could never imagine. On Valentines Day I sent her a mix CD. 16 tracks, all the same song… Danny’s Song.
I miss you, Big’ums.
Becky thought I forgot the little “you shoulda stuck with David” comment. Now she’s gonna die.
I know that she picks her loser husband up at work every night at seven. So I hang out in the shadows of the garage, waiting for her pull up. At five till, low and behold…
I lie in wait. I can hear “Another Day in Paradise” blaring from her car before she shuts it off. This bitch is going down.
Suddenly, I hear the garage door rolling down for the night. It’s Mark. I jump from the shadows and tackle Becky. “Shoulda stuck with David, huh?”
Then I feel a kick in the back that must’ve come from Thor himself. I look up; it’s Dan Conner. Damn, I forgot he worked here too. “This is for banging my daughter,” he says, then punches me so hard in my chest that my shoulders touch.
When I come to, I’m on a gurney, flooded in the lights of an ambulance. I look around at what looks like the entire town of Lanford sans George Clooney. Bonnie, Crystal and Nancy are consoling Becky. Dan is giving his account of the story to Officer Harris (God, Jackie looks so hot in that uniform).
As they lift me into the ambulance I suddenly see Roseanne. We lock eyes for a moment and I yell out, “Even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you honey…”
The ambulance doors shut between us and the siren wails in the night.