Dinner Fail

Andy hadn't said a word since they got in the car. This dinner with his boss was really important and Melissa messed it up. She couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Andy," she said, when they reached a red light, "I'm so sorry. I just couldn't get it down. I mean, it looked like diarrhea." She nearly retched at the thought. The soup his boss had served them smelled like something their dog would have thrown up.

Silence.

"Please, Andy. Just talk to me."

She heard a chuckle. In the dim light, she could see his shoulders shaking. He was biting his lip and squeezing the wheel so tightly, she could tell he was about to bust.

"I just--" He took a breath. "I just can't--"

He couldn't get it out. He was laughing so hard he was crying. Cars behind them honked when the light turned green. She could tell he was having a hard time composing himself since he had to pull over.

"Was it really that funny?" she said.

He nodded. He was laughing too hard to use words. When he calmed down enough to speak, he tried again.

"When you tried to explain why you were in the bathroom with the bowl," he said with a chuckle, "the look on your face. And then your excuse." He shook his head. He was on the verge of another laughing fit.

"I panicked," she whined. "I didn't think he would catch me."

"I bet," he said, pulling back onto the road. "I was trying to hold it together until we got home."

"Sorry about the dinner."

"Please. I didn't eat the soup either."

"Really?" she said. "What did you do with it?"

"I did what any normal person would do." He chuckled. "I threw it out the window."