bits and pieces

"we gotta pull in here, i want a menu." my wife indicates the newly-reopened and -redecorated asian restaurant that we are nearing.

like the dutiful hubby i am (insert whip-cracking sound here), i pull into the parking lot and sit in the running car with my sleeping offspring, idly wondering how much my sitting there with the engine burning the refined leftovers of the once-proud dinosaur is contributing to the overly sunny future, while my wife dashes in to retrieve a menu.

in a few seconds she's back. "it's so much nicer in there now."

"yeah?"

"yeah. it used to be all closed and narrow and dark, but they've opened it up and it's well-lit and clean."

"cool."

"and they've got pho!" (this in a sing-song like you might say to a toddler, "i've got your nose!")

"hm. cool."

two beats pass.

"i should change my name to pho." i shrug my shoulders nonchalantly.

"what?" she looks at me perplexed.

"i should change my name to pho. pho kum iffaykentekkachoke."

"wha-at?!?"

"fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!" i burst into insane laughter, tickled at my own clever ingenuity, and pleased that i picked a wife who can set up the punchline so beautifully.

she is laughing too, whether at me, or at my joke remains unclear. not that it really matters, i have made my wife laugh, and sometimes, that's all i need.

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pepper is smashed flat against the bedcover, hips raised slightly, ears back like airplane wings. the look in her eyes says two things: "you can't see me" and "someone is going down tonight".

except my wife and i can see her, and neither one of us wants to go down. so we peek surreptitiously from under the edge of the blanket.

pepper stares, her eyes seemingly coming through the tall brown grass of the african steppes as she sizes us up. her pelvis begins the rythmic motion that denotes finding the best footing for the pounce. she leaps at my wife, who shrieks, and in the same instant darts under the protection of the covers.

i laugh.

"how come she never pounces on you?" my wife demands.

"oh, she tries, but she always stops short."

"what do you mean?"

"it's like she gets nearly there, and realizes, 'oh shit! that's that big fucking bastard. better leave his ass alone.'"

my wife laughs.

"she obviously thinks you're the weaker of the herd." i say, and roll over on my side, my back to my wife.

"nuh-uuuuuh."

"yep."

next thing i know, the cat has used my distraction to her advantage, and is giving the back of my head hell.

"get him, pepper!" encourages my wife.

"alright, she's got some plan to pick us all off one by one, i guess."

"hmp!" it's my wife's turn to turn away.

darth sardonic