Brozzef knew it was gonna be a be a good day. He could feel it from the soles of his New Balance sneakers to the top of his Axe-gelled haircut.
“Brozzef,” he said to himself, “Today is your day, brah. Today is the day you will propose to Kaiyghtlyynn!”
Brozzef had been dating Kaiyghtlyyn for a super long time, like an eon, a whole 6 months. He knew she would be the perfect trophy wife. Sure, she was a little old for him at 22, but Brozzef was feeling his age at 39 and 3/4.
He was finally ready to move out of his mom’s house and have kids of his own. His eyes teared up (but not in a gay way) as he thought of his future semen demons: Brozzef Junior, Chadleigh (good for a boy OR a girl!), and of course little Donaldina, named after the best damn president ever!
As Brozzef zipped through the lanes of the highway, he felt in the pocket of his beige cargo shorts for the engagement ring. Tonight at Olive Garden he was going to propose to the perfect woman Kaiyghtlyynn and begin the next chapter of his life.
God, I hate vanity license plates.