Doorman to Hell

Tip for the future: If you are inside the door of Chuck E Cheese and want to cross the threshold do not joke with the bouncer/doorman. 

J2 and I are inside the door and waiting at the doorman podium. I am holding an armful of birthday presents and a birthday card. J2 held the doors. 

On the other side of the rope snot-nosed children are squealing, screaming, throwing tantrums and spreading germs. If the mother's are not twerking while dressed to attract their next baby daddy then they are worn with exhaustion, squealing, screaming, slinging threats, or throwing their own tantrums. At the cash register is a line 10 men deep. They all have looks of frustration painted dually with relief flickering across their faces. The frustration derives from the length of the line to order food for their ravenous families and the relief is from not being on the gaming floor with those same families. 

The doorman stands behind the hooked rope, "Are you here for a birthday party?"

With a twinkle in his eye J2 quips, "No. We come here for date night."

Deadpan stare, "Are you going to be leaving with a child you did not bring with you tonight?"

"Not tonight, we don't plan on it," J2 laughs. 

The doorman/bouncer is not amused. J2's comment implies that not tonight, but in the future he plans on leaving with a child. 

I laugh a little too hard at J2's comment. 

Our entrance into this very non-exclusive Chuck E Cheese is dangling like a carrot in front of our eyes. Our invitation is dangerously close to being revoked. 

I quickly wipe the smile off of my face, "We are here for Linus Conway's birthday and we don't have* any children."

She clicks the rope open and we gain entrance into Chuck E Cheese, which is a doorway into the nine gates of hell. 

*Although J2 does have three children, The Little Rottens; he and I have not mingled our DNA to make joint children. There are no future plans for commingled DNA.