WHAT IS IT DEAR? By T.J. Tesch
Saturday, November 28th, 2009Harold J. Rowch took his arm away from his eyes and let them adjust to the florescent lights…. The frilly little light fixture his wife had had him put up in the living room was bright as hell.
It was so hard to take a damn nap with that woman always needing something. And whatever it was that she wanted, it could wait till later…
The game was about to start!
Harry nestled his back deeper into the recesses of the couch and sighed, he had just closed his eyes when the voice came again.
“Harry!”
“What is it dear!” Harry yelled back, trying to make himself heard throughout the house. He did not want to get up.
“Harry! Get in here!” His wife’s shrill voice clawed down the walls all the way into Harry’s ears. She was in the Kitchen.
“What’s the matter?!” Harry yelled back. “The game’s about to start! Can’t it wait!?”
“No it can’t wait! Now get your butt in here!”
Harry let out a grizzly moan as he wiped the front of his mouth. Mumbling and annoyed, Harry lazily slung his body to one side in a tired effort to get up off his back. A second later he was up off the Oh- so -comfortable -couch.
“Coming Dear!” Harry said, not quite a shout this time, defeated.
On his feet now, Harry lazily trudged into the living room, dragging each step across the carpet. He could hear his wife now impatient as ever.
“Harry get in here! What are you doing!?”
“I’m coming, keep your head on.” Harry said, rounding a corner and stepping into the kitchen. I swear one of these days that woman’s going to eat me alive, Harry thought as he felt the carpet change to cold linoleum.
He put one arm up to rest on the marble countertop and scanned the kitchen for his wife.
She wasn’t next to the fridge, the sink, or the dishwasher; she was nowhere to be seen.
“Sharon where did you go?” Harry asked, scanning the kitchen once more.
“Are you blind!? I’m in here!” Sharon’s voice came from somewhere in the kitchen.
“Where is ‘Here’?” Harry asked, growing more annoyed.
“In the pantry you lazy bastard!”
Harry hissed to himself and scurried over to the open pantry door. He saw his wife now, standing atop a wooden stool and peering at the ground. She had a broom in one arm, and a dustpan in another. She looked up at him and her eyes glowed a sinister shade of green.
Harry was in trouble.
He recognized this immediately and decided to play the tired card and maybe save himself some lecturing. “I was sleeping honey, I had a headache and I was tired—“
“I don’t give a hoot about your head!” Sharon hissed at him. “I’ve been trapped up here on this stool for ten minutes because you wouldn’t even help me!”
“What do you mean trapped? Why are you holding that broom?” Harry asked still trying to placate her.
“It ran across the ground! I didn’t want it to bite me or sting me!” Sharon snapped. “I think it was trying to get in the meat that YOU left out last night. I told you they can smell it!”
“But I was going to have that for dinner tonight.” Harry pleaded as he took the broom and dustpan from his wife. “You know I don’t like fresh steak. I wanted it to spoil at least a little bit.” Harry whined.
“Well your ‘spoiling’ has brought that nasty thing inside now!” Sharon pointed to an anonymous spot on the kitchen floor. “So you get rid of it. Squish it!”
Harry turned and strained his eyes as he looked around the kitchen floor. At first he couldn’t see anything, just that same old brown stain next to the fridge that wouldn’t ever go away.
Then he saw it run out from beneath the fridge, to a crevice between two cabinets.
It was a tiny human and it carried something between its arms.
Harry rolled his massive eyes back to his wife and clicked his mandibles at her in irritation.
“It’s not even that big!” Harry chuckled. “You’re such a baby.”
“Don’t you dare laugh at me Harry! Those… pests are the only reason I keep you around!”
Harry was already unrolling a paper towel from the dispenser on the countertop. He scurried over to the cabinets where the thing had gone, and scooped it out carefully with one of his arms. It took some effort not to crush it.
“Harry! Be careful, it could have a spear or one of those little tools they use!”
“It’s fine Sharon, it was just carrying some food. Don’t worry I’ll go put it outside. It’ll be happier there.” Harry was already heading for the front door when he heard his wife’s voice from behind him.
“Harry…” Sharon groaned, “If you’re going to go outside, at least take out the trash when you go.”
He could hear her clicking at him as he scooped up the three bags of trash, one with each remaining arm. His antennae twitched angrily as he stalked outside into the humid evening. He had walked by the TV on the way out.
The game had started; it was already five minutes into the first quarter.
©2009 T.J. Tesch
