Homies, Day 6: The Lame Escape

After a night of drunken carousing, we hit the sack and slept in. In fact, we slept past the wakeup alarm. We slept past lunch. Some time that afternoon, we awoke to the sound of a car door slamming outside.

In a flash, we were wide awake, desperately stuffing our belongings into our bags. Our benefactors were home!

"Where'd the potted plant by the door go?" Someone wondered as we tumbled down the stairs and headed for the back door.

We bowled through the screen into the backyard and looked around frantically for an escape. Applejacks looked up playfully, chewing a mouthful of pink roses. The side alley to the front was blocked by the PKB, who was crouched on the gutter, snarling. In that instant, he reminded me of every single villain from Watership Down, not that I have read that book.

There was no time to lose. We dropped our shoulders and charged the wooden fence toward the neighbors. The boards shattered and we stumbled into the next yard impaled by hundreds of splinters. We rose, sputtering, and reached for our bags.

Too late.

"Boys?" Our benefactors were standing in a small semi-circle by the hole in the fence with quizzical expressions. "We're home!" We stood, heads bowed in shame.

Before going further, it's time to reveal an important fact that I probably should have mentioned in the first post in this series: we were housesitting for Mommy G. She had trusted us with our (her) home and we'd blown it. We'd caused all kinds of damage and defiled every corner of the house. We'd even besmirched her computer by making FCN posts from it before it was sold for two hammers and a toilet seat.

"What are you two up to?"

My homie gestured lamely at the house. "See for yourself."

Mommy G turned and walked slowly through the former screen door into the kitchen area, the patrolled the house, eyes wide, occasionally making high-pitched sqeaking noises. "Oh! ... oh! ... oh! ..." When the entire thing had been reviewed, she turned to face us.

"It's still standing," She said. "I'm so proud of you two."

This was not exactly what we had been expecting. "Sure," I said. "But ... aren't you upset about ..."

"How can I be upset? You've already given me so much more than I expected."

"But we sold everything for four hundred and fifty bucks."

"A shrewd business move."

"We ate the bunny and wumped the dog. Now you've got a Shetland that eats flowers."

"Snickers was getting fat and Coco sometimes chased his tail. Good riddance. Besides, Applejacks is adorable."

"There front door is surrounded by holes!"

"It'll improve ventilation on hot summer days."

We entered Mommy and Mr. G's bedroom and inhaled sharply. The mess in front of us stretched the imagination of even the most experienced college student. My homie continued pointing out problems, saying "Your bed has been replaced by a wicker couch!"

"I was getting tired of that mattress anyway. Well, hello, Jake!" Mommy G knelt and extended a hand at Osiris, who had been drawing attack plans on the wall when we entered the room. Osiris hissed and chomped down hard on Mommy G's hand, then jumped out the second-story window, fur flying, shouting: "Viva la revolution!"

"Haha! Good old Jake." She turned to face us again. "You two went above and beyond the call. Good work."

On the drive home, we decided that Mommy G had been bitten by some sort of rare and venomous insect during her time in Zimbabwe. A few hours after arriving home, we recieved a batch of freshly-baked cookies that Mommy G had FedExed over. They were as good or better than the ones she made back when her kitchen worked.

Well, no matter what she tells us, we still feel bad for trashing her house. Oh well. Thanks for the vacation, Mommy G.