Recently I worked out some much needed updates to the blog to make it a bit more operational. I added some handy-dandy links on the side, switched up the color scheme, and changed the name of the blog. Yay! I may do a bit more here and there. We shall see… In the mean time, is there anything you think should be done or changed? I’m open to suggestions!
“Such a long day…” I sighed, trailing my feet up the walkway. “Some warm food, a shower, then bed…” Dreamily, I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. “Hello!” I called out. “Anybody home?” I heard clinking dishes and giggling trickle out of the kitchen. Kicking off my shoes I recognized the noise straight away. “Josie!” I yelled. “You’re not in the ice cream again, are you?” Smiling, I threw my coat and briefcase aside and sought out my little sister.
“Josie…?” I crept slowly towards the noise, hoping to scare her. Looking into the kitchen I spotted her little pigtailed head looking into the refrigerator. I also spotted another head sitting at the breakfast bar a few feet away. At least I thought it was a head. “Josie…”
“Mike!” Turning and spotting me, Josie skidded across the tile and tackled me with a bear hug. “Guess what?”
“Josie.” I swallowed. “What’s that?”
“Guess what?” She insisted.
What I could only describe as a bizarre blob crouched on a stool in front of a plate of barely defrosted chocolate chip pancakes. I watched in disgust as the creature sucked up another pancake through his… trunk?
“What?” I asked, exasperated.
“I got an A+ on my art project today.” She beamed.
Kneeling down to her level, I held onto her shoulders for stability. “That’s great sis, but there’s something that I want to ask you.” She nodded. “What is that?” I pointed to the creature now playing with a fork I assumed Josie had given it. Such a sweet girl.
She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, Mr. Honk? I found him in the back yard.”
“The back yard?” My voice cracked.
“I told you you shouldn’t have thrown that lasagna away in the alley.” She lectured. “I think he used to be a frog. Or he’s an alien. Let me go ask.” Dashing away from my grasp she skipped towards the creature.
“Josie!” I whispered, crouched near the door frame. Too afraid to follow I began formulating a plan to explain away her sudden absence to our parents.
“Mr. Honk?” She batted her eyelashes up at the blob. It looked down and blinked back at her. “Are you a frog or an alien?”
Blinking slowly, the creature reached out a hand and touched a single finger to Josie’s forehead. Proceeding, it let out a series of honking noises with a dash of squeaks. Finished, it withdrew its hand and jumped down from the stool with surprising dexterity. Short and fat, it waddled over to the living room couch.
“He said he’s neither.” Josie happily reported. “He said we are the ones who are aliens. How funny is that?” She clapped happily as the pudgy alien struggled to climb onto the couch.
“Alien…” I muttered in disbelief.
Gripping my hand, Josie tugged until she drew my attention. “Can we keep him Mike? Pretty please? I’ll feed him and water him and bath him and he can sleep in my bed and…”
Amber sat on the couch feeling somewhat lonesome. She watched TV and munched on some fruit flavored cereal, but wasn’t really paying attention to either. She was waiting.
Bang, bang, thud. “Good morning John,” Amber said, trying to not sound too excited at the first sign of life in the morning.
“If she asks, I’m not here.” John said urgently. Amber looked over her shoulder just in time to see John duck into a nearby storage closet, clothed in nothing but a pair of checkered boxers.
“Uh,” She managed to get out just before she heard more bangs and thuds coming down the stairs. A girl of beautiful proportions, but terrible hair and makeup, appeared.
She fixed her cross eyes on Amber. “Who are you?”
“I’m Amber,” She answered honestly. “I live here.”
“You live here…” The girl huffed and nodded. “If you see that slim ball excuse of a man who goes by the name “Bill” anytime soon, tell him he can keep it.” With that she threw her rather oversized purse over her shoulder and, head held high, exited stage right through the front door.
A moment later, after he made sure it was safe, John emerged from the closet. “Who was that?” Amber asked, amused at John’s endless antics. It kept the house interesting. “And what is it you can keep? And who’s Bill?”
“Don’t worry your little pretty brain about it.” John patted her bed head as he walked by. “Good morning Tiff,” He said distantly.
“Good morning Stud.” Amber heard Tiffany clink delicately down the steps. “It sounds like you had a good night.”
“Always.” John chuckled and headed upstairs, noisy as ever.
“Hmm,” Tiffany spotted Amber still in her pajamas and smiled. Tiffany was a peculiar sort of woman, mature well beyond her years. She took care of everyone in the house without overbearing anyone into submission. “Good morning love,” Amber felt the smile in her voice.
“Good morning Tiff,” She said back. “Do you know…?”
Tiffany sighed. “I try to stay out of that boy’s business. Honestly, it’s more of a bother that anything to concern yourself.”
“Yeah,” Amber said absentmindedly. She’d focused in on the TV now, comforted by the movement of others in the big house. Upstairs, she heard John ram, what she could only assume, his foot into his dresser (again) and cuss loudly.
The news was on. Tiffany, serving herself her usual grapefruit, sat next to Amber on the couch to catch up on the daily grind. A new news reporter, a young boy straight from school, lectured them on the safety hazards of sink plugs.
“He’s decent.” Amber commented first.
“Talent wise or…?” Tiffany asked, coy.
“It’s too early to say talent wise, but look wise…”
“I would eat cheesecake with him.” Tiffany confessed.
Amber gasped. “Really?” She couldn’t help but pry.
“Oh yes, I think so.” She said.
“What are we talking about?” John’s head poked between the two women’s.
“Tiffany said she would eat cheesecake with him!” Amber pointed with her spoon.
“Really?” John asked, surprised.
“Well, don’t all sound the alarm at once.” Tiffany smiled and stood, exiting stage left into the kitchen.
Reaching over, John stole Amber’s half eaten bowl of cereal and drained it, following Tiffany into the kitchen. “Well,” Amber said, more to herself than anyone else. “I guess I should get dressed now.”
Freshly off work, I thought I’d stop by the local ice cream parlor for a quick snack before heading home to the house of horrors. Greeted by the cream dealer like an old friend I ordered my usual. Sitting peacefully for a moment was a treasure. Why you ask? Remember when, three sentences ago, I mentioned something about a “house of horrors”? Well, rather than explain it to you, why don’t I just show you?
Not five minutes after I’d stepped through the door she entered. A chill scratched down my spine even before I heard her voice ring out. “Jason! There you are!” Let’s get formalities and introductions out of the way, yeah? The voice belongs to a girl. The girl is my live-in girlfriend, regrettably. Regrettably for reasons you are soon to be privy too. “Alright,” She stood with her hands on her hips as I slowly spun on my stool to face her. “Where is she?”
I looked left and right, my spoon hanging out of my mouth. “Who?”
“The slut your sleazing around with.”
I sputtered and nearly choked on plastic and dairy byproducts. “Who??”
“You heard me!” She yelled, successfully gathering every single person in the joint’s attention.
“And what’s with the ice cream? Huh?? You think I wouldn’t notice?!”
“The ice cream you idiot!”
I wore the strangest look that clearly conveyed to her that I was completely lost in this conversation. She slapped her forehead in exasperation. “You’re eating ice cream.” She spelled out.
“Yes.” I agreed only because it was the truth.
“Yes.” I said again, still confused as to what all the hub-bub was about.
“Alone?” She emphasized the questioned, staring at me intently.
“I’m sitting here alone ain’t I?” Normally my grammar is a bit more scholarly except when being accused of something that is clearly not true.
“I don’t like your attitude.” She confronted.
“Well I don’t like you attitude.” I threw back.
“You’re an ass!”
“So are you!”
“We’re through! I’ve had it!”
“Fine by me, I was gonna break up with you anyways!”
She gasped as if struck. “Really?” Her perfect doe eyes blinked at me in honest hurt. Instantly I deflated.
“Well, I mean… I just said it, you know?” Subconsciously my eyes shifted, uncomfortable with the gazes our argument had drawn. Great, now I just look like a jerk.
“But, after all we’d been through?” She whimpered. “You were just going to leave me? Just like that?”
Damn, what could I say? She had me cornered like a mouse. “Ah Alish…” I was drawn. I could either end it with her now, really end it with her, and feel like the scum of the earth for the rest of my life; or I could consol her and still feel like the scum of the earth because she makes me feel that way.
Now I know a lot of people out there are yelling at me right now. Leave her! They shout. She’s psycho! Drop her ass now while you still can! But you must understand… I’m a nice guy. Like, genuinely, a nice guy. I don’t like to make girls cry anymore than I like to clean. Which is sayin’ something.
“Ah Alish… don’t cry.” I gave in. I did! I crumbled under the feminine pressure of the possibly of tears. It’s pathetic, I admit, but could you have done differently? Could you have shoved your girlfriend aside and walked out of an ice cream parlor with your cotton candy sundae like the boss-pimp you most obviously are and not feel the least bit remorseful?
I slid off my seat and gave Alish a hug. I smelled the wicked wafting off her even as she smiled up into my eyes. “Let’s try to work it out, okay?” Even as she said this she snatched the cup of blue and pink from my hand and started sucking it down like my soul.
Yeah, this is going to last.