Honestly, this post has nothing to do with being poly, other than it’s nice having friends who accept you as you are, but I laughed my ass off, so I thought you guys might enjoy it too.
Yesterday, J and I got together with a bunch of our writer friends for lunch; I drove. On the way home, we were chatting and she told me what had happened that morning.
Her husband was leaving for work and didn’t want to be late, but before leaving, he said, “I gotta go, but there’s a bug in the bathroom. Tell your dad or L (their eldest son) to take care of it.”
J was insulted. She keeps a clean home, damn it. How dare he say there’s a bug in there. “What are you talking about? I just cleaned that bathroom. What kind of bug?”
Her hubby tried to skirt around the question. “It’s just a bug. Just tell your dad or L to go kill it.”
He tried to walk away, but J won’t let him go without an answer. She pressed, “I just cleaned it! What bug? Where?”
Still trying to leave, he answered in a huff, “It’s in the corner of the bathroom. Don’t worry about it, just tell your dad or L. I gotta go.”
Once again, he tried to leave. Once again, she annoyed him and demanded more. “No. No! What kind of bug?!”
Aggravated, he gave her the information she wanted, “It’s a spider, J. Alright?! It’s a spider and it just gave birth to a hundred little spiders.” He took the opportunity of her shock to leave.
Side note: J is as terrified of spiders as Bina. I might even say more. When Bina read the first Sunday Funnies, she was in the car and almost threw her phone when she saw the gif of the spider. J told me she did the same thing. J said, “I knew it was coming. I thought I was prepared. I had taken a deep breath before scrolling up, and there it was! Crawling on my phone and I threw it.” Here she is, describing her living nightmare, and there I am, laughing my ass off.
Well, that was it. The second floor of her home was completely uninhabitable now. It had to be burned to the ground.
Poor J had to take a Portuguese bath in her kitchen. (For those of you unfamiliar with the Portuguese bath, let me explain. It’s a bath where you clean the most important bits with a towel.)
While doing this, the only thought that kept going through her mind was the nightmare that those bastards were making a home in her home. Every second they lived, they were spreading into other areas of the house. What if they went into her bedroom?! It was unthinkable! J couldn’t wait any longer, they had to die. Now.
J called her parents in a panic. Another side note: J’s parents are night owls, and Friday nights are Ladies Nights for her mom. Guess who as slightly annoyed by this call?
“I am not waking your father up because of a spider.”
“But Mom! It’s not just one! There are babies!!”
Mom took care of it. And I can just imagine the passion behind the killings. Fueled by anger at being forced wake up far too early after a night of fun and debauchery, the poor bastards never saw it coming.
At this point, I’m laughing so hard, I can barely breathe.
And this is where we almost die. I’m still driving and didn’t turn the wheel enough on a curve. I jerk it to get back to center and give us both a heart attack before cracking up again.