Chapter 7
When Tom got home early the next morning, he opened the door quietly. He didn't want to disturb anyone in the house. He walked as silently as possible up the stairs and opened the door to his daughter's room.
He peeked in. He saw that she was sleeping quietly.
"Ah! Such a prim and proper young thing, he thought. So innocent and virginal.
He would have to see about sending her to a prim and proper college, where she could learn all of those prim and proper things which weren't worth a shit in the real world of modern America, but made prim and proper parents feel good about wasting money on education.
Next, he walked down the hallway and peered in on his lovely wife. He saw that she too was sleeping soundly. She was so beautiful. She was the perfect housewife. Beautiful and dutiful. Just the way a woman should be. In many ways, he felt that he didn't deserve her. After all, he had let himself go for the past few years. His gut was now as large as that of Jackie Gleason during his prime period of fatness. And Tom just kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Now, his gut was so big that he found it difficult to sit down at the dinner table—not to mention the toilet seat.
Oh well! He had no real reason to worry. Pamela would never leave him. After all, she was as happy as lark.
Ah yes. This was the all-American happy home. He was grateful that he had prim and proper Pamela and innocent Kimberly in his life.