If you missed part 1 of this story, click here for it.

Freshly dressed up like a chick, I first wanted to get some candy before watching a movie. Jessica, Hotbox and I got into my car, while Kim and Mondo decided to take their own vehicle.

As the lights from the city and nearby cars whisked by, Hotbox started to groan.

"Oooh man..." he said.

"What's up?" I asked mockingly, "Little too much drinky?"

"The Donger need food!" Hotbox shouted. "If I don't get something to eat, I'm going to blow chunks."

"If you're going to spew, spew in this," Jessica commented as she passed a plastic bag back. I was pretty impressed at the reference.

About that time a mustang went zooming by us going well over the speed limit. We could feel the bass vibrations from its sound system.

"Oh that's not helping," Hotbox whined.

"Not in the car man," I warned, "I'm almost to Safeway...we're coming up on-"

The mustang abruptly cut us off, then slammed on its brakes to pull into the grocery store parking lot. I hit my brakes to avoid a collision, and Hotbox flew forward into the back seat.

"I'm good...I'm good! I am a stone...and refuse to spew...in your chariot."

I nodded in appreciation, and pulled into the parking lot. In the parking space next to us, I saw a group of boys get out of the mustang. Most were wearing letterman's jackets.

"Nice car," I muttered to myself. "Stupid kids."

Hotbox and I got out of the Toyolla and walked into Safeway, while Jessica stayed in the car because she didn't want to be seen with me in drag. I confidently strode about the store in lingerie, finding the candy aisle and grabbing a box of junior mints. Hotbox got a sandwich, and we headed up front.

We patiently waited in line behind an older lady who had decided to cash in on 100 or so coupons she was collecting for what must have been the toilet paper apocalypse. There's generally a limit on how much you can purchase per brand with coupons, but she seemed perfectly happy with buying any and every type of toilet paper there was in the store. One ply, two ply, bears, puppies, babies...it didn't matter, as long as she was getting a discount. I couldn't figure out if she had overdosed on metamucil, or if she was planning the most elaborate toilet papering attack against the senior citizens center. Either way, I was impressed.

It was about that time I heard an abundance of idiotic laughter mixed liberally with the word "Dude" and a ton of cheap cologne. I turned around and saw four of the five guys from the mustang walking up behind us with two cases of Keystone Light. All of them couldn't be a day over 18, except for the fourth one, who had a popped collar and an immaculately white hat on...slightly crooked to the left. My guess was that he was the "supplier", being the only one old enough to purchase sub-par alcohol.

It's times like these that I was glad to be 29. I'm young enough to still be having fun, but old enough to not have to deal with tools such as these. As an adult, I don't even have to acknowledge them, and they know better than to bother me.

Well, they should know better.

Hotbox and I passed the time with small witty banter, but it was difficult to talk over the high fives and inane giggling these guys produced. A moment or so later after being acclimated to the sound, it suddenly stopped altogether. I could feel the weight of four pairs of eyes on me.

I heard a few muffled giggles, and somebody poorly whispering "Bro that's just not right...it's just not." I turned slightly to act like I was checking out the National Enquirer on the magazine rack, and I could see the gang of kids glaring. Hotbox gave me a knowing smile, and we both waited quietly to see if any of them would step up to the plate.

I heard another whisper, this time from the guy holding the beer. "Which one is the butch, and which one is the..."

One of the letterman kids was feeling particularly hearty that night, and finally tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around feigning a feigned look (it takes work to double fake it) at the guy. Surprised at getting my attention, he put his wrist up to his giggling mouth and looked back at his buddies for support. Then he coughed a couple of times and stood up straight, straightening his letterman's jacket.

"Uhh, hey guy...uhh, what are you wearing?" he asked.

"Your girlfriend earlier," I replied, pointing at my skirt-thingy. "She left me this as a memento."

Hotbox of course wasted no time at chiming in.

"You should have went with 'Mom'...he probably doesn't have a girlfriend," he added.

The spokesperson of the juvenile quartet tried to stand a little more straight. After getting a better look at the kids, I wasn't quite sure if these guys were in college or not. They were a bit larger than I thought.

"You talk big for being so small," the kid said.

"Yeah your girl said that about you too," I replied. "By the way, she owes me 50 bucks."

"You upped your rate?" Hotbox asked, playing along.

"Yeah, inflation and all," I said. "Plus a ten dollar ugly fee. You should have seen her."

"Do you want a problem man?" the kid asked, stepping towards my personal space. I was honestly a little surprised here. Did the "age-reversal" makeup actually make me look 10 years younger, or were these kids that dumb? It hadn't dawned on me that we may actually be sparking a fight against juveniles here, but I figured I could get a couple of good shots in before the police showed up and my wife subsequently divorced me. It would be worth it to teach them a lesson in respect for their elders...even the ones dressed in drag.

"Alright alright hold on," Hotbox said, walking in between us and wearing a disarming smile. He turned to the kid and put his hands on his shoulders. "Look..." he stated before pausing and taking in a breath of bad cologne. Suddenly Hotbox's face began to change color.

Letterman-boy pushed Hotbox back. "Don't you dare spew on me drunkie!"

Out of nowhere a stiff hand grabbed the kid's arm.

"Jeremy Bartholomew Woods," I heard in a deep stern voice, "You'd better explain like hell why you're endangering your status on the team!"

I looked at the owner of the hand to see Mondo standing there. He had finally caught up to us at the supermarket.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that he's a high school football coach.

The kid began to shake, and took a number of steps back. "Uhh, everything is good here sir. These guys friends of yours?"

Mondo looked as us disdainfully, not wanting to admit his affiliation with us to his students. "None of that matters. What does matter is that you act in accordance with the school and athletic codes of honor at all times."

"Uhh, y-y-yes sir," Jeremy replied, now nearly quivering. Now I know that Mondo is a pretty scary guy when he gets upset, but Jeremy was uncomfortably nervous. Even the other two were scared. Then I suddenly remembered the older guy holding the beer.

Mondo noticed him too.

"Who is this guy?" Mondo demanded.

"He's uhh, just my older brother" another kid explained. "He's going to drop us off, uhh, at the movies before he goes to an all adult party."

As if on cue, the fifth member of the boy band walked up to the line with a couple bags of chips. "Ok guys let's-"

Upon seeing Mondo, the kid's jaw dropped and he froze.

"I want some answers and I want them now!" Mondo shouted.

"No doubt!" Hotbox interjected. "Honestly, Keystone Light? Pssh, featherweights..."

Mondo glared at Hotbox, but that didn't stop him from talking.

"All I'm saying is that if you're going to enable minors, you really ought to do it the right way."

Whatever amazing coach vibes Mondo was sending out, pretty much all of us were feeling it. The kids on the team were mortified, the older brother was getting scared, and even toilet paper geriatric lady rushed out of the store as fast as possible. Mondo didn't hold back though.

"That's it. Hustle! I am going to see to it personally that you put this beer back where it came from, and march on out of this store before I call your parents!"

I sneered. "Well we know who the butch is now. Get to steppin' Bartholomew."

The kids turned tail and started to trip over each other in a race back to the beverages section. Mondo followed them tightly, shouting more commands.

Hotbox and I shrugged at each other, and I bought my junior mints.

Crisis put aside, Hotbox and I walked out of Safeway. The sudden rush of cold air caught him off guard.

"I'm still not feeling good man," he said. "That cologne was rough." He paused and leaned over, taking a few deep breaths. I put my arm on his back and guided him through the parking lot.

"Well this is the place to puke if you gotta do it," I said. "Nobody around except-"

Hotbox suddenly aimed his head away from me and darted between vehicles to get out of plain sight.

"No dude, not my car!" I shouted.

At first he turned towards my Toyolla, but to give him credit, he didn't puke on my car. As soon as I shouted my warning, he turned about-face...and projectile-vomited all over the hood of the mustang.

"Oh wow..." I said, standing in awe. This was no small amount of puke. You would be hard-pressed to get that much coverage by tossing a 48oz milkshake at the vehicle. Their mustang was coated in booze-flavored bile. Jessica's hands and face were nearly pressed against our car window watching in horror. She had witnessed the whole scene in slow motion.

Hotbox stood back up, coughed, and wiped his mouth off. He stood there with his shoulders slouched, staring at his work, then looked back at me. His open mouth slowly turned to a smile.

"Alrighty then," I said. "Looks like it's time to go!"

I opened the back door to the Toyolla and pushed Hotbox in. Jessica glared at me.

"Aren't you going to talk to the owner of that car?" she asked.

"It'll wash," I replied.

"Well what about Mondo? He was in there looking for you."

"Oh don't worry about him!" I said while starting the car. "He'll catch up to us again. Let's roll!"

It was about that time I was wishing I would have purchased a 6 cylinder car instead of a 4. We made it out of there before the boys came back out though, so that was nice. Jessica demanded we explain what happened in Safeway. I did my best to tell the story, while Hotbox still sat in the back seat recuperating.

We rushed to the movie theatre and waited for Mondo and Kim. Hotbox was nearly catatonic. Jessica lectured me about provoking fights for the next 15 minutes. Finally when the other two arrived, Hotbox looked at Mondo and broke his trance.

"You knew their middle names?!" he asked. "Now that's impressive!"

(to be continued...)