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
It did have a love interest so I thought there might be a happy-ever-after even
if the cover didn’t have a hunky feller. 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
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!!!