AND THE PLOT THICKENS…
I always love saying that. 
Anyway here’s a slice of my life last night. Actually early this morning as what I’m about to share occurred in the wee hours. Here’s the setup. Honey and I are in bed and both of us were sound asleep in the pre-dawn darkness when this bird (I’m convinced it’s a loggerhead shrike) starts making noise. He’s loud, really loud and very passionate about whatever it is he wants to sing into the shadows. Anyway, I wake up and flop over onto my back. That’s when I notice Honey is already staring at the ceiling. After a full minute of us being quiet, side-by-side eyeing the ceiling while Mr. feathered Pavarotti belts out his tune, I whisper.
“It sounds like he’s saying ‘be scared, be scared, be scared.”
Honey grunts and then after a few seconds the bird’s chirping changes and I whisper, “Now it sounds like he saying, ‘run away, run away, run away.”
Again Honey grunts and once again, after a few seconds the bird’s chirping alters. “Now he sound like he saying ‘kill now, kill now, kill now’,” I whisper still staring up at the ceiling.
This time Honey’s head turns and I feel his eyes drilling into me through the darkness. “I’m sensing a theme. Should I be sleeping with one eye open?”
“No,” I assure without looking at him. Instead I close my eyes and snuggle deeper into the duvet with a sigh. “If I were going to take you out quick-like I’d want both your eyes opened so you know I did it.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing if I was pushed to do something so drastic it would be because you really pissed me off. And that being the case? There’d be nothing quick about it. I’d use arsenic or Drain-o and poison you slowly over months and months. So your hair would fall out and your teeth would get weak. Your muscles too. Oh, and your brain would wilt…yeah, arsenic would be my choice. It’s easy enough to add to food as it’s barely detectable.”
By the time I was finished I knew my voice sounded like I was compiling a grocery list. I also knew Honey was up on elbow leaning over me. It was hard to keep a straight face because…well, the poor guy never really knows when I’m joking or serious and in this case? I just peppered in enough true-to-life-facts that he’d be worried I was plotting his demise.
“Hey.”
I crack one eye open.
“Is there something I should know?”
“Nope.” He lies back down and I wait until he’s comfy when I add. “I mean if I told you it would defeat the whole stealthy purpose of getting away with it, wouldn’t it?”
And there I am, laughing my ass off in the early morning hours as Honey lunges for me and growls, “Come here you.” Just before he yanks me into his arms and playfully bites my neck. “Tell me again how you’d do me in.”
It’s at that moment I realize our little feathered Pavoratti-like friend had sung us a love song. How awesome. Giving Honey a hug I murmured, “How about I show you instead…”
A few minutes later I decided I was never going to cuss at the noisy guy ever again and that goes for the bird too.
This is what he looks like…the bird, I mean, not Honey.
Anyway here’s a slice of my life last night. Actually early this morning as what I’m about to share occurred in the wee hours. Here’s the setup. Honey and I are in bed and both of us were sound asleep in the pre-dawn darkness when this bird (I’m convinced it’s a loggerhead shrike) starts making noise. He’s loud, really loud and very passionate about whatever it is he wants to sing into the shadows. Anyway, I wake up and flop over onto my back. That’s when I notice Honey is already staring at the ceiling. After a full minute of us being quiet, side-by-side eyeing the ceiling while Mr. feathered Pavarotti belts out his tune, I whisper.“It sounds like he’s saying ‘be scared, be scared, be scared.”
Honey grunts and then after a few seconds the bird’s chirping changes and I whisper, “Now it sounds like he saying, ‘run away, run away, run away.”
Again Honey grunts and once again, after a few seconds the bird’s chirping alters. “Now he sound like he saying ‘kill now, kill now, kill now’,” I whisper still staring up at the ceiling.
This time Honey’s head turns and I feel his eyes drilling into me through the darkness. “I’m sensing a theme. Should I be sleeping with one eye open?”
“No,” I assure without looking at him. Instead I close my eyes and snuggle deeper into the duvet with a sigh. “If I were going to take you out quick-like I’d want both your eyes opened so you know I did it.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing if I was pushed to do something so drastic it would be because you really pissed me off. And that being the case? There’d be nothing quick about it. I’d use arsenic or Drain-o and poison you slowly over months and months. So your hair would fall out and your teeth would get weak. Your muscles too. Oh, and your brain would wilt…yeah, arsenic would be my choice. It’s easy enough to add to food as it’s barely detectable.”
By the time I was finished I knew my voice sounded like I was compiling a grocery list. I also knew Honey was up on elbow leaning over me. It was hard to keep a straight face because…well, the poor guy never really knows when I’m joking or serious and in this case? I just peppered in enough true-to-life-facts that he’d be worried I was plotting his demise.
“Hey.”
I crack one eye open.
“Is there something I should know?”
“Nope.” He lies back down and I wait until he’s comfy when I add. “I mean if I told you it would defeat the whole stealthy purpose of getting away with it, wouldn’t it?”
And there I am, laughing my ass off in the early morning hours as Honey lunges for me and growls, “Come here you.” Just before he yanks me into his arms and playfully bites my neck. “Tell me again how you’d do me in.”
It’s at that moment I realize our little feathered Pavoratti-like friend had sung us a love song. How awesome. Giving Honey a hug I murmured, “How about I show you instead…”
A few minutes later I decided I was never going to cuss at the noisy guy ever again and that goes for the bird too.
This is what he looks like…the bird, I mean, not Honey.
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