We undertook the job of rearranging the book case and took
three boxes to the library to make more room. During the process several novels
surfaced that I had not had time to read (they did not go into the giveaway
box) and one evening I decided to treat myself to the luxury of reading without
guilt. Now most of the time, I like books with a good looking hunk on the front
and the promise of a happy-ever-after at the end.
That evening something else caught my eye. I bypassed the
roses and wine and picked up one of those action things about super heroes who
were fighting terrorists in New York City
When I read, I truly read. I only put the book on “pause”
long enough for potty breaks, to make another cup of hot tea or maybe raid the
refrigerator. So by the time the terrorists were caught and behind bars my
blood pressure had risen a few degrees and I was as jittery as one of those
long tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs.
And when I finally went to sleep, I was plagued by
nightmares.
The next night Mr. B picked up his book and I chose another
one. Three hours later I finished one about a serial killer that made the
terrorists look like a meeting of my Granny’s Sunday school class.
I know how to take precautions in case that west coast
killer or the east coast terrorists could rise up from their graves and haunt
my dreams. Mr. B had already gone to bed when I finished the book. He couldn’t
hear a tornado if it picked our bed up, twirled it around six times and dropped
it down in Africa . So it was up to me to take care of
matters.
I propped the broom by the back door and moved a chair in
front of the front door. Not that either one would stop a cold-blooded killer
but at least if he opened either door, the chair would skid on the hardwood or
the broom would fall on the tile. Since I am a light sleeper, I would wake up,
grab my trusty BB gun and pepper spray and protect my fortress (that being me,
Mr. B and the tom cats). Maybe in the dark the sorry sucker would think I had
an assault rifle and run away in terror.
I slept like a baby until the wee hours of the morning until
I awoke and the only thing I could think of was those powdered sugar donuts in
the pantry. I was all the way to the dining room when I remembered the killer
and the terrorists…the chair was safe in front of the door so everything was
good.
No one with a lick of sense would bypass donuts and they
hadn’t been touched so that was a good sign. I poured a glass of milk and
devoured a package of six little donuts. I was on my way to put the empty
package in the trash when I noticed the broom was right beside the trash can,
where it belongs, and the back door was standing wide open.
That could mean only one thing…
I strained my ears to see if I could hear him breathing but
all I heard was Mr. B snoring loud enough to be in competition with the freight
trains running west of town. I tiptoed through the living room, checked under
the beds and in the closets but if he was in either of those places he would
die from dust suffocation by morning and be the absolute laughing stock of all
the serial killers and terrorists in the whole universe.
Evidently he’d come and gone, staked out the place and would
come again another night. Well, I would be ready for him. Next time I’d bypass
the BB gun and load up Mr. B’s high powered pistol and maybe I’d watch Home
Alone again for some ideas on being proactive about this thing.
The next morning Mr. B asked me if I finished the book and I
told him that it had been based on facts and that the killer in it had escaped.
I knew because he’d moved my broom and come into our house.
“Oh, I wondered why the broom was there when I got up to let
the tom cats out. I put it back where it belonged and must left the back door
open when the boys went out,” he said. “What’s for breakfast?”
From now on I will read funny women’s fiction books that
make me giggle in my sleep!!!
And this is one of the reasons I tend not to read those types of books! :) At least you made me laugh this morning! Thank you for that! :)
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