We were getting ready for a birthday party when Cade walked over to me and looked something like this:
"What happened to my clothes?" he asked.
"Ummm . . . I'm not sure, but why are you wearing my shirt?" I asked, trying not to giggle.
"Ha . . . ha. Seriously though, what happened to my clothes? I read your blog yesterday and I find it funny you failed to mention that you shrunk a bunch of my clothes AND dyed them pink."
"The golden stream was funnier."
As I stared at him, I wondered if it really was funnier. He looked pretty hilarious in those child-sized pink clothes. I did feel a little bad his clothes were ruined, but he didn't understand that I'd been washing for quantity, not quality.
"So, you didn't spank him," Cade said.
"The Zombie Elf, when he peed on the laundry, you didn't spank him."
"No . . . I mean, yes."
Cade sighed. "You didn't?"
"Oh, is that what you thought, of course I did."
"Well, what would you have done?"
Cade sighed with the frustration only a clever woman can cause. "I would have spanked him," he said.
"And that's what I did." I lied, the kind of utterance that opened Hell's gates in the mortal realm. I would have felt bad, but Cade seemed so happy with me, I couldn't tell the truth.
He hugged me. "I knew you reprimanded him. You're such a good mother to my babies."
So, as we finished getting ready for the party, I felt like poopy Pinocchio. We hardly talked the whole way to my sister's. I didn't want to tell Cade that The Zombie Elf has me wrapped around his finger tighter than an E string on the violin.
Well, after we got to the party, my sister's dog acted funny when he saw me. He has a sixth sense about things. I knew he saw into my sucky-laundry, lying soul because if that dog had two more heads he could work for Hades on the week days and give Cerberus time off.
That dog glared at me, practically begging to tell my fib. "You liar! You liar," his eyes said. "You didn't spank The Zombie Elf!" I shooed the evil-eyed dog and told him if he wanted to judge, he could go beg at someone else's feet. He sulked after that, and I thought everything was okay until a few minutes later.
Now, my sister and I don't talk a lot, so when we do, I want her to like me. She's extremely beautiful and intelligent. She's the type of person everyone wants to be friends with, yet we're so different sometimes it's hard knowing what to say. I fumbled with my words and hoped I said the right thing, but it's hard. She's a chemist, a serious chemist and I'm a blog-loving, joke-making seamstress. When we actually have something to talk about, I love it and don't want to ruin the moment for anything--especially an evil-eyed dog!
We talked, having one of those moments for the first time this year, when I felt something strange on the back of my leg. I turned. That damn dog, sat begging. His front paws rested in the air, close to my knee. His tongue swayed back and forth as those vicious eyes taunted me. "You didn't spank him," his eyes shouted. "You lied to your husband about it!"
"Shoo," I clenched my teeth and whispered.
My sister paused and I put my hand behind my back, wagged my finger--doing the doggie sign language for 'no no.' But that was the wrong thing to do. At that moment, as my sister got teary-eyed and told me how Zeke would be so proud I wrote a book about his life and death, her dog started heaving behind me. I ignored it. That dog has some deceptive ways. He didn't want me bonding with my sister--he hates me!
After I heard the noise again, I did wonder if something strange went on behind me. I didn't want to look though. If the dog decided to throw up on itself, that was his deal.
I must say that I smelled something after that, and I did wonder why the stench went everywhere that I did. I turned and everywhere I was, that dumb dog followed me! I helped pass out ice cream and yet no matter where I moved, I swore I could smell that dog! At one point, I glared at him. I sniffed and smelled something rancid even though he sat watching me from across the room. He smiled--the devil in canine form--and I groaned. We were just about to begin a staring contest when The Zombie Elf trudged into the room.
His head hung low and his shoulders sank. "Mama say there's no spank?" The Zombie Elf looked up at Cade and pleaded with big eyes.
I swear everyone studied my boy and his soaking pants. "What happened, buddy?" Cade asked him.
The Zombie Elf cleared his throat, then loud enough everyone (including that judgmental dog) could hear, he said, "Mama, say dirty laundry. So I pee pee, but there's nooo spank."
"What, buddy?" Cade gaped at me like I'd ripped out his heart and feed it to the Cerberus candidate smiling next to him. "You said, Mama no spank?"
"Mama, say dirty. So I pee pee and there's no spank. See, Daddy. Pee pee." He clapped then and started jumping up and down in those soggy gangster pants.
"Elisa," Cade said, "Can I talk to you?"
I didn't want to talk to him, I really didn't. I moved closer and hoped I'd get my mind off things. Have you ever been so upset, you've take out your frustration on someone else? That's what I wanted to do; I wanted to glare at that wicked dog. I sneered, ready to give him a crusty, but as I looked around, he wasn't there--he wasn't anywhere. That dog had vanished!
Then it happened.
"What in the world . . ." someone said.
"Is that?" my mom finished.
I felt something bite the back of my pants and when I jumped, I saw that Hell dog chasing me from behind. He followed me, licking his own throw up OFF MY PANT LEG!
"Oh my gosh! It threw up all over Elisa's nice jeans!"
"What a horrible thing . . ."
It really was, but did they need to talk about it like I wasn't there? I mean, I was the victim of vomit, not of hearing loss!
My sister felt so bad and I think a few of the other people did too. Some of them gathered around and talked as my sister helped me scrub the throw up off my leg.
"That's so weird," my brother said. "What's the probability of that happening?"
"I'm just glad to know I'm not the only one crazy things happen to," someone said.
"This'll be great for the blog," my sister said and everyone started chattering more about my blog, than the throw up on my pants. Thank God for blogging--it saved me once again.
"Have you read Elisa's blog?"
"You should check it out," their voices rang and made me smile.
"I bet we'll all be in it tomorrow."
"I bet we will."
"I wonder what she'll write about that dog."
So, we got the yuckiness off my pants, even though they still smelled pretty bad. I ran to the van and looked for a new pair of pants for The Zombie Elf, but realized I had none. So, being the pattern wiz I am, I figured a way for him to wear The Hippie's jacket.
They were a bit girly, but it was better than nothing. Plus, he thought that was awesome and for the rest of the party he ran around growling like a samurai, "I good guy. Mama, no spank. I good guy! Go tough pee pees."
This is what he looked like from the back:
I did talk to Cade after that. "So, you didn't spank him?" he asked.
"I just couldn't do it; he's too cute. I'm sorry I lied."
"It's okay. You're such a bad liar, I knew you were lying anyway . . . But after tonight, I know what you mean. It's hard getting after him when he's being so cute." Cade smiled and looked at my pants. "What a day. I still can't believe the dog threw up on you."
"That dog hates me." I drew in a breath as I thought of the Hell dog. "Anyway, I'm sorry about your clothes. I really suck at laundry. Maybe we can get you some new clothes--some that aren't made of wool."
"Sure," Cade pointed at my pants, "Oh and I'm sorry about your clothes too. You should have seen your face when that dog licked your leg!" A smirk lit his face and he suddenly laughed so hard I thought I should call a paramedic.
So, the Hell dog got me good, and my boy peed his pants. But at least everything turned out all right in the end.