Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2192459
A man goes on vacation with his wife.
It was not the vacation I planned on. It was so hot. So cold. So freaking cold. And the violence. A thing to be reckoned with. I was telling my wife that I wanted to go the Chicago Theater for my birthday. She asked me if I was crazy. I honestly had no idea what she was talking about. I mean, perhaps I am a little eccentric - I like to think - but, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't seem right to just blurt out such a thing. What if my mother-in-law had been in attendance at the moment in time? I never would've heard the end of it.

Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Where was I? Yes. I had decided to take my wife into the...bleeming Chicago in order to see Ray Liota's one-man show at the Chicago Theater. Called, Thessily, it was touted as a true Brat Pack story that everyone wanted to see. Even Jack Nicholson, old cabbybat, even he was in favor of Liota's biting wit, epic lyricism and meteric tempor.

So, I went to pick up some plane tickets for our trip. First class all the way, baby! Anyway, I go to buy the tickets, and the lady at the counter is like: you're flying? And I said, sure. And she's like, why didn't you buy the tickets online? You can't just come down to an airport and...fly. Luckily, I had a strategy. I told her that I was the queen of England and that my wife, King Charles, would be escorting me. We got the tickets instantly.

Anyway, so we get to the airport the next week and, guess what, the airport parking lot is full. But the airport itself is almost empty. Somebody please explain that to me. What in the world were these people doing? I mean, was Drake having a surprise concert at the local Riviera or something. I couldn't tell you what was going through people's minds from one second to the next but, I digress.

So we get on the plane. First class baby! And we fly from Atlanta to Chicago. We arrived at 2:55 am, but I tell everyone that it was 1:02 am, just to scare 'em. The nightlife was explosive, in a chemical sort of way. This guy named Kung Lao, and another named Sherman, had lost access to a shower for the week, so the whole city stank to high heaven. I mean, if Sherman and Lao would just go to the local emergency showers, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Anyway, so, we get to the hotel and the lady asks us, where you from? I didn't want to seem...disrespectful, so I continued to claim that I was the queen of England. You won't believe what she said to me. Room's free. On the house. You should try it some time. It can work if you really believe it. So she shows us to our room, and there's a moose...in the pool. I kid you not. There is a whole moose in the dang swimming pool, in our room, at the Trump Towers. It was amazing. Those things can drink you under the table ten ways from Sunday. And they don't need tips.

Anyway, I asked my wife what she wanted for dinner, and she said Illuminati's. My wife is in the Illuminati?
I couldn't believe it, even if she kept raising her pinky each and every time she sipped tea. Go figure.
So anyway, my wife and I were headed out to Chicago Theater - dinner afterwards. Ray Liota was AMAZING! We couldn't stop laughing, or crying, which wreaked havoc on our sinuses.

After the show, I - uh, children, dishonesty is a sin - I claimed to be the Queen of England, and we got backstage to meet the actor, Ray Liota. I was shocked. No, I was shoked. All choked up and shocked at the same time. It was amazing. I asked him, why did you keep asking the audience if you had any Yelp reviews? I didn't get the reference. Anyway, he couldn't validate our parking, which was pretty bad considering that he'd been working there for months at that point, but we left empty-handed and went to Illuminati's.

It was owned by this guy named Lou. But we didn't get to meet him. The pizza was so thick. I didn't know whether to eat it or wipe if off my windshield (with my tongue!). Whatever happens, I'm always having visions of Ray Liota dressed as George Jefferson in a pilot's outfit while the choir sings the National Anthem of China. I mean, Singapore.

I couldn't be a better time to go, if you want to see it yourself. Just remember, though: the parking is strange. Every garage has an undercover cop dressed as a dragon. I guess he's there to scare away...giant rats? I don't know. Also, there is an...affinity for the Queen of England which I haven't seen anywhere else. Even in Europe I mean they really love the Queen of England in Chicago.

Well, we went to Watertower Place in downtown Chicago. It's always nice to be able to buy a toy that looks exactly like the building you happen to be standing in. Just in case Ant Man needs your help. I'm not an Avenger or anything, but I am royalty. But anyway, it gets so hard to justify these lavish vacations. The vacation of a life time. Over in a day, useful forever.

Useful for stories. Useful for the time it gives you with the King of England. Useful to get back at your coworkers where they tell you that they don't "believe" that you can afford to fly first class. All the way, baby! Yes. I completely believe that I would never have even went to see Ray if the stove hadn't broken.
Now, all I can do is wonder. Where, where? Where are my keys?

We will definitely go back next year.

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