What Do You Do When Your Brother's Wife Will Do Absolutely Anything To Pass College Algebra?

I would have liked to help my assistant, Tommy "Two Times" Johnson, with this problem before he actually tried to handle it himself. I think things would have gone a little better for him and his family. With Tommy's permission, I'm gonna share his story, so that perhaps, in the future, you'll know better how to handle this situation.

As a Doctor of Psychology, with an extensive practice, I must often utilize assistants from time to time. I have three assistants; Wally Mammoth, Tommy Johnson, and Connie Cryer, and all of which are students and/or teacher's assistants at the university. By the way, I also teach at the university from time to time. But like I said, my practice is quite extensive, and now, to go along with that, I've also started working on my first published work, that of which, you are reading right now.

Tommy Johnson, though he is much smaller in stature than Wally Mammoth, can still pack quite a punch. This is one of the reasons why he's so essential in my research. Take, for instance, what happened with his sister-in-law.

According to Tommy, this all happened about a year ago. Tommy, who is still an undergrad, had been putting off some of his gen-eds. One of those gen-eds was college algebra. It's not that algebra was particularly difficult for him. It's just it was tedious, or so he says.

Anyway, the time came where Tommy could procrastinate no longer and signed up for a summer session of college algebra, figuring this would make the class shorter, which in a way it did. Unfortunately, Heatherly, Tommy's sister-in-law had the same idea. And so, on the first day of class, Tommy, who was full of dread over taking the class, suddenly heard a familiar voice he couldn't quite readily place.

"Well, hello there," her mousy voice sang out.

Tommy cringed at the sound, as it somewhat startled him. Then he glanced over, and standing there was Heatherly, his sister-in-law, in all her brightly colored glory.

"Hi," Tommy uttered dryly.

"Jake was tired of me hanging around eating Bon-Bons all day. It's funny too, because I don't even know what Bon-Bons are. He told me, 'Heatherly, why don't you go do something. Get your nursing degree. Something. And maybe you can help out a little with all these bills.' To which I replied, 'Bills? Why, I thought bills were your department. While kids are my department.' Then he said, 'Well, do you see any kids running around here?' I told him, 'Nope, but that doesn't mean we won't be seeing them someday soon.' 'Right. Well while we're waiting, you can go get your nursing degree and help out with some of these bills.' Isn't your brother just a hoot?"

Tommy wasn't sure how to respond. His brother was just sort of a jerk. At least that's what Tommy thought of him. But he was big. And prone to fighting. Tommy knew that all too well from growing up being Jake's number one target for butt-kickings.

With nothing else to say, apparently, Heatherly decided to sit down next to her brother-in-law.

Once the class was underway, Mr. Jensen, the instructor, started laying down the class rules from the syllabus. After about fifteen minutes or so, Heatherly nudged Tommy's foot. Tommy sighed. Then he looked over. Heatherly was rolling her eyes as she sat hunched to her side and leaning against her arm.

"I'm so bored," Heatherly whispered a bit too loud.

Tommy nodded. "It's just the syllabus. It'll get better. I think."

"It better!" Heatherly sighed. "My first day of college and I'm already bored out of my mind."

After class, as folks were gathering their things together, Tommy was doing the same, thinking all the while about riding his bike home to see if he could catch Connie Cryer, one of my other assistants, on the phone, so he could talk to her while he masturbates, which was something he liked to do. Tommy has always been quite fond of Connie.

With these thoughts racing through his head, Tommy suddenly got a tap on his shoulder.

"You're gonna walk me to my car, right?" Heatherly asked, waiting.

Tommy nodded, reluctantly.

Not much was said as they walked to Heatherly's car. Then Heatherly decided to say, "Wow, feels like we've been walking for miles."

"Yep," Tommy uttered.

"It's true. I betcha I parked a good mile from our class. These parking lots are bigger than the mall parking lot, I swear!"

"Yep. Lots of students. Lots of parking."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm not looking forward to this class."

"It's college algebra. It shouldn't be too hard. You took algebra in high school, didn't ya?"

"Yeah. I think. But that was what, ten years ago?"

"I think it'll all come back to you."

"You're so sweet."

Tommy shrugged.

"You know, I was really dreading this whole college thing. I mean, seriously dreading. But then I saw you there. And I thought to myself, 'You know what, Heatherly. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.'"

"Good," Tommy said, still thinking about Connie and what she might be doing and what she might be saying whilst, unbeknownst to her, he's beating himself senseless.

Heatherly continued, "I mean, how can I fail when you'll be right there, next to me, to help? I mean, you are gonna help me, right? You wouldn't let your own sister-in-law sink and drown right there next to you, would you?"

"I'm sorry. What? I was thinking about something else."

Heatherly looked disappointed.

"Help you? Yeah, I'll help you."

"Good, because Jake said he's gonna be pissed if I don't pass all my classes. That'd be pretty bad if I didn't pass the very first one, huh?" Heatherly laughed.

Tommy smiled, stilling thinking about Connie.

As the weeks passed, and the class progressed, it wasn't long before Tommy realized, no matter what, the compounding difficulty of an algebra class was more than likely impossible for Heatherly. This realization was a bit of nuisance to Tommy.

Plus, there was the issue of his own work being affected. To Tommy, the class wasn't all that difficult. The material came back to him from high school. Just like he thought it would. The problem was hiding this fact.

When he got papers back, he had to do his best to hide them from Heatherly. If she saw how well he was doing and how bad she was doing, well, instant depression would come over her. Tommy couldn't concentrate on his studies when Heatherly was sitting next to him contemplating driving her car into a tree on the way home.

Then, things took a turn. About midway through the semester, Heatherly's demeanor seemed to change completely. And Tommy was perplexed. He thought for sure she was just going to drop the class at some point. But no. Heatherly kept coming to class. And her hopeless descent seemed to miraculously turn around. How was it possible? Was she somehow getting it now? Perhaps, she was finally sticking with it instead of giving up before she even started. Tommy was pleasantly surprised and alleviated by the turn around.

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What Do You Do When Your Friend Asks You To Fill In For Him With His Wife On Scrabble Night While He's Away?

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What Do You Do When Your Pastor's Wife Is Constantly Complaining About The Lack Of Anal In Her Life?

My wife, Jennifer, who is a devout Christian, has always been a pillar of morality in my life. And that can be a valuable resource at times. I myself, I've never been very religious. However, when we first started dating, it became readily apparent if I intended on continuing the relationship, I would be expected to attend church. After my first wife, Naomi, who was practically a liberal, feminist, closet-lesbian, anarchist, Wiccan, I was probably feeling the need to compensate in the other direction, to a more straight-lace, conservative, WASPy woman. Hence Jennifer, my second wife.

Early on in our marriage, prior to venturing out to the east coast, we decided to attend an average-sized, about 400-500 people or so, Pentecostal church, in a remote town in Northern California. The church appeared, for all intent and purposes, to be very conservative. Although the women weren't made to wear dresses or skirts, they all did all the same. And although the women weren't made to keep their hair long, they all did all the same. For the most part, everyone dressed very conservatively, nothing too flashy. Not a lot of makeup. Not a lot of frills. Only a few women in the church failed to get the memo concerning these church-wide, self-imposed restrictions, my wife among them, and surprisingly enough the Pastor's wife also, Sister Rebekah, who I always felt I shared a certain affinity with.

As much as I tried to "surrender" myself to this church and its ways, it just seemed futile after a while. Sure, I had my moments of weakness, when the church and all its churchiness seemed to lull my sometimes sleepy mind into believing this whole rigmarole was authentic. But in the end, my mind would always wake up just in time to talk some sense into me. After all, the whole thing, especially when you approached it critically, seemed a little far-fetched.

Still, for Jennifer's sake, I continued to attend church with her. I had to at least try to please her in this way. It was obviously very important to her. I mean, it's not like she, all those years ago, when we first started dating, she didn't present herself as this sort of woman. It was quite plain. I couldn't blame her for my own idiotic need to give her the impression I would be fine going to church with her. Forever. And ever.

On the bright side, as a psychiatrist, just starting a practice in Northern California, the church provided an abundance of potential clients. It seemed that amidst all this oppressive conservativism, there were several folks who were just itching to get out, away from the church. Even if, all they needed was to leave the church, there was no way the thought was going to occur to them on their own. And for the most part, I didn't feel like telling them. Probably, because down deep inside, I knew that they knew it, too. And I was waiting for them to figure it out for themselves. In the mean time, their want and desire to leave the church manifested itself in other ways like alcoholism, wife-beating, stealing, fighting, bigotry, adultery, etc..

In the case of Sister Rebekah, the Pastor's wife, things were a little different.

I met Rebekah the first day we attended the church, when the pastor and her stood by the exit to bid farewell to all the folks attending the church.

Rebekah was somewhat tall and very beautiful. By far, she was the flashiest attendee in the church, wearing flashier clothes and a bit more makeup than any of the other women in the church. In addition, her dresses seemed to show slightly more chest and leg than any of the other women in the church. But she was the pastor's wife. And for the most part, this made her above reproach. Except of course for the members of the church who struggled with gossiping, which was basically 90% of the church.

Through the years, attending the church, and seeing these folks at various church functions, Rebekah always seemed to take a shine to me. And at times, she showed surprising candor. This always threw me for a loops, since everyone in the church, apart from those I saw in the office, seemed profoundly fake or delusional or both.

At one particular event, I believe it was a church picnic, I noticed Rebekah standing alone, by the brush along the lake. As bored as I was, I decided I'd approach her. After all, I had always thought we shared a certain affinity toward each other, as two, seemingly lonesome honest people stuck in a sea of the opposite.

So, I started, "Hello there."

"Oh, hello, Brother Mosely," she said, noticeably glad to see me.

"What might you be thinking about?" I asked.

"What does every man or woman or child apparently think about?" Then she discreetly gestured at something out on the lake and smiled back at me.

I followed her eyes and saw a teenage couple, out deep, with their arms around each other. I peered a second, and smiled, realizing they weren't just embracing but were actually fucking. Their intermittent looks of strain and pleasure were the giveaway.

"So sweet and so innocent," Rebekah said, marveling at the teenagers.

I smiled and looked a little closer at Rebekah.

"What?" she asked.

"Sweet and innocent?" I asked.

"That's Brother Scoll's son, Peter, and Brother Tanner's daughter, Willa. They're a sweet couple. They've been going steady all summer. I think it's cute."

"Rebekah?"

"Yes, Brother Mosely?"

"Forgive my French, Rebekah, but Brother Scoll's son and Brother Tanner's daughter are fucking right in front of you. In front of all of us. I don't know if I'd call it sweet and innocent, but I'd call it bold."

Rebekah peered out at them, watching for a moment. As she watched, at a certain point, she raised a hand to her chest in shock. "Brother Mosely, you're right. What should we do?"

I waved it off. "Do? Nothing. They're teenagers. That's what teenagers do. Fuck like bunnies."

"Brother Mosely, your language."

"Sorry. It just seemed like the appropriate terminology to describe this type of sex."

"Premarital sex?"

"No, fucking. Look at them, Rebekah. They're fucking."

Rebekah watched them for a while longer. This time biting her lips a little and clenching her fist tight. That's when another congregation member joined us. Rebekah didn't say a word about it.

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