Round Four:

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, but was probably about three minutes, my adorable fiancé stood up. Then she looked at me. Let me tell you this, I felt like the temperature in that room had dropped about 40 degrees. If looks could kill, I would be dead, buried and already decomposing.

Wow. Oh wow, she is seriously pissed this time . . Shit!

Now, as my Vonni stood there and stared icy/hot daggers of venom at me, I couldn't even begin to describe what she looked like. Except that she resembled a walking swamp creature of multiple colors. I could barely breath as I watched her move toward me.

"Wipe that grin off your face, buddy boy," Ivanna spit out. That was all she said, at first. I knew there would be a lot more later.

Coming to a stop, with her toes literally standing on mine. Ivanna turned her smoldering eyes toward me. Even amongst all that glop covering her face, I could read those eyes.

"Now . . . I really hate you," she said with acid tumbling off each word. "Now, I will REALLY kill you," each syllable literally dripping poison as she slowly enunciated them.

"Uh, I'm sor . . .," I started to say.

"SHUT UP!"

By now, the applause had pretty much ground to a halt as the people in the room started to sense that something was amiss.

"SIT DOWN!" she said, when I tried to apologize again.

I shut up. I sat down. I bowed my head in remorse.

Oh shit. What have I done! I am so sorry . . .

"Uh oh," I said quietly to myself as I saw where Ivanna was heading.

Yeah, like I said, payback is REALLY going to be a bitch.

Looking back at me, Ivanna stopped at the fourth table, the one loaded with all those pitchers of custard. She picked up two of those 2-liter monstrosities of mess and started back to me. These had the plain, or yellow, custard. Stopping at the table nearest me, she set them down. Then, with a finger over her lips, to shush me, she returned to that table for more messy mayhem. This time it was the chocolate custard she brought back. And the third trip resulted in another two 2-liter pitchers of messy ammunition, strawberry flavored custard.

I gulped when I saw all that liquid mess. There were six 2-liter pitchers, or three gallons of liquid mess. And I knew what was going to happen to me.

But I didn't say a word. I didn't wine or cry. I knew I had it coming. And so did everyone else in the room.

Finally, and I emphasize this because Ivanna took her own sweet time in setting up everything just right, my betrothed, and I was really sweating bullets about that, picked up the first pitcher, one of those with chocolate custard in it. She looked me squarely in the eye and then, winked at me. "I know how muuuuuuch you like chocolate, my darling."

Why that little winch, acting like she was sore at me this entire time . . . Why I ought to . . .,

My thought process came to a screeching halt as Vonni started pouring that mess over my head. After completely saturating my entire scalp, thus ensuring all of my hair was covered, my best friend tilted my head so my face could become her next target. And she didn't skimp on the mess. When she finished that first pour, my entire head was covered with slimy brown gunge. I was a mess, but I knew this was only the beginning. Or as that master of the oratorical word, Winston Churchill once said, "This was not the end. It was not even the beginning of the end. But it was the end of the beginning."

Now the love of my life started playing it up for the audience. And they loved it. Setting down that first pitcher of malicious mayhem, Ivonna had lifted another one; this was one of the strawberry custards.

"Shall I," Vonni said to the crowd while leering wickedly at me.

"YES!" was the resounding answer from our group of merry onlookers.

"Sorry, darling," my best friend said to me, "but the masses must be appeased!"

Oh shit, I'm really in for it now.

This time, she continued the pour, starting with my face, quickly covering it with pink custard, before streaming the liquid goo over the top of my head, leaving a running line in the center of my scalp from front to back. When she was done, I looked like I had a pink mohawk cut in the center surrounded by a sea of chocolate on the outside. Then Ivanna returned her attention to my face, and all but obliterated it with the final rendition of that pitcher.

Shit. I've still got four more to go.

As she set that second pitcher down, the crowd were on their feet, shouting "MORE, MORE!"

And Vonni was eating it up.

"Well, we mustn't disappoint them, darling, must we," Ivanna smiled sweetly as she picked up the first of those yellow custard pitchers.

"What was it you airborne guys always said," Vonni was really getting into this. Oh yeah, "stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door; gonna jump out and count to FOUR!" she said with a laugh as my sweetheart picked up a second pitcher of the yellow delight known as custard.

OH shit! I'm really in for it now!

And now, the woman that I loved more than life itself, stood over me, straddled me, and actually sat in my lap. Then she started pouring that liquid mess over my head.

Now, Ivanna was probably getting about as much mess as I was because it was hitting my head and then splattering outward and onto the upper part of her dress. The contrast couldn't have been clearer, what with all the yellow glop splattering on the blue gunge that had saturated her dress. She was getting her fair share. And Vonni loved it. The crowd was roaring, flashes were going off as dozens upon dozens of cell phone cameras recorded the festivities for posterity.

When she finished, the front half of Ivanna was covered in yellow goo, while I was a big blob of yellow mess. And one other thing. I had a massive hard-on.

Oh shit. Damn. I can't get up now. Everybody will see my state of . . . oh shit. Why did you have to do that, Vonni?

When she got up, Ivanna took her own sweet time, grinding her hips into my lap, as she could feel my heightened alertness, if you get my drift.

Why that little bi . . . she did that deliberately. She even ground her ass into my . . . knowing what that would do.

As Ivanna stood to a standing ovation, I tried to clear that goo out of my eyes, but every time I would wipe them, more glop would just flow down from my forehead and it was back to square one. And then to make it worse, she said, "Get up, sweetheart."

Oh shit. No. Not that. Please don't . . .

But my look of dismay was not having any effect upon Ivanna. She wasn't cutting me any slack. She was bound and determined to humiliate me as much as humanly possible.

"Get up, Bobby . . . Stand up, BOBBY!" Ivanna wasn't budging an inch. "Now, Bobby!"

You're breaking my heart, Baby.

But I did what she told me to do. I stood up.

It didn't take the people closest to our little stage of entertainment very long to notice. It wasn't like you could fail to notice. Now, everyone remained silent. And no one was taking pictures anymore.

Either Ivanna failed to notice the subtle change in her audience's mood, or she just didn't care. My dear sweet Vonni was bound and determined to heap on another level of humiliation.

"My, my. Look what we still have left," Vonni said, while pointing at those other two pitchers of custard.

"Why, whatever will we do with them," Ivanna said, all the while looking at my messy crotch and that big bulge in it.

"Oh shit. I just hung my head. My humiliation was complete. I knew what was coming next.

As she stood me up, and turned me to the audience, I saw shock start to register on some of the faces. Everyone was silent now.

"Let's see," Ivanna giggled, as she pulled back my shirt, and held open my pants. "There, that ought to do it," Vonni said, and then she started the pour, chocolate this time.

"Oh shit," I cried as all that cold, so cold, custard hit my private parts. "Oh no. Stop, please . . ."

But she wasn't listening. Ivanna wasn't buying into my cries of distress.

Oh shit . . . probably shouldn't have . . . oh what the hell. There's nothing I can do now.

The only good thing, I can honestly say, about that deluge of chocolate gunge in my underwear was that I no longer had that problem of the bulge. Let's just say I did not have any romantic thoughts at all right then.

But my little domestic terror, wasn't through quite yet. As brown gunge trickled down the front of my trouser legs, Ivanna quickly turned me around and lowered my pants so she could give me a repeat on my backside, this time with strawberry custard. Vonni pulled out the tops of my 'tightie whities' and started pouring that pink slop. And she really took her sweet-ass time.

After finishing off the last of those pitchers of custard, Ivanna looked around to see what else she could use against me.

Oh Vonni, how could you do this to me. I have never done anything that mean to you. And with everyone in the room watching . . . why?

Then she picked up one of those gi-normous chocolate cakes and smashed it into my face. And she made sure to grind it in just like she had before. To say I was a mess would be a euphemism. With all of that liquid goo already on my face, the addition of the chocolate cake, chocolate mousse and chocolate buttercream frosting just about completely obliterated my face. At least this time, the angle wasn't as bad, so I did not get any of the muck up my nostrils. Still, I was a wreck.

"Still think you're winning, Bobby?" Ivanna asked in her sweetest voice ever.

But I didn't reply. There was nothing to say.

"Turn around," Vonni said, with a wicked grin upon her gunge-covered lips.

I dutifully turned around.

As I watched, Ivanna placed a chocolate cake on the chair.

"Sit down." And again, I dutifully complied.

Squiiiish, a loud squishing noise was heard by those nearest us, as that cake collapsed and smooshed all around my butt.

Now, I was livid.

Payback is not going to be a bitch, this time, Bitch. It's going to be a BASTARD. And I'm the one that's going to be administering It!

Ivanna stood me up, turned me around to where my rear was facing the crowd of onlookers, and then she finished me off with a loud slap on the back of my underwear, causing an explosion of pink goo to fly everywhere. Some of that pink mist even hit Vonni in the face. As she stood there, licking the custard off her gunge-stained lips, my former, perhaps, best friend looked around at the people surrounding us.

There was total silence. You could have heard a pin drop. No cell phone was snapping photographs. There were looks of horror on many of those nearest us. Ivanna, I think, finally realized she had lost the crowd's sympathy.

"Uh . . . oh, I'm . . . uh, I'm . . . so sorry, I'm . . . so sorry . . . Bobby," Vonni said as she hurriedly lifted my pants and secured them with my belt. "I'm so sorry," she whispered in my clogged right ear.

Alright, Vonni, you've had your fun, but now it's my time. You think you had it bad before . . . that was nothing compared to what I will do you NOW.

To say I was messy would be an understatement. I was really messed up. I was covered in muck from head to toe. The insides of my pants were filled with slimy goo that was dripping out the bottom of each trouser leg. My nostrils were still, at least partially, stopped up with gunk. My hearing was gone, as both ear canals had long since become filled with pie, cake, and custard slop. I could hardly see, as the gunk from my head kept dribbling down into my eyes every time, I got them cleared. Oh, I was a mess alright. I was a big mess.

As I stood there, dripping muck of all kinds, my clothes ruined beyond repair, I staired at the woman of my dreams. Or at least she had been. Was it my fault? Had I been too harsh with her? Did I bring this all on myself?