I came home for lunch today and noticed that my parents were parked in my driveway.
No, pardon me, they were parked IN THE MIDDLE of my driveway.
Heaving a sigh I pulled into the grass, trying not to plummet over the slight incline and then headed through the garage and into the kitchen.
"What'd you bring for lunch?" My dad yelled (he has one volume setting - really frickin' loud).
"Uh, nothing," I said. Mom emerged from the bathroom and smiled. "I have some leftover cheese and crackers from my 'Wii and cheese' party last night-"
"Okay, just give me that grape pop in the fridge then," he said settling down at my table and waiting to be served like a king.
I started gathering up some grapes and various colored cheeses that were sitting in my fridge. I pulled out the little bit of chicken salad that I had left and plopped it all on the table.
Mom meandered over with a napkin.
Noticing I had just under thirty minutes to eat and get back to work I started slicing the cheese (yes, you may notice that I didn't say 'cut the cheese' - I know ya'all too well for that one).
Every slice I sliced was gobbled by father figure. I sat back and waited for him to pick up the chunk of mild cheddar and stuff it into his two-front-teeth missing mouth. He then proceeded to tell me, again, about the first era of the Bionic people. With his mouth full.
<sidenote: Why is it that when your doorbell rings at 7pm and you rush to answer it and find a cute boy standing on your porch that positively reeks of all that is Patrick Dempsey, oh why, oh why does he turn out to be your best friend's beau??? hee hee!>
"Yes, daddy, I know. It will be stupid if she gets a dog and they make it bionic, too. Yes, you are right," I say as mom keeps her head down while she giggles over her brie.
It's at this point that my father, almost simultaneously, scoops out the last of the chicken salad and eats the majority of the pineapple which he then puts the lid on and pushes it to the side as if to say "that will be all of that."
So I sit, nibble onmy tiny crum of dairy and wait for the clock to tick to 12:45. Stomach rumbling, I put away the stuttered meal and head to the bathroom in my bedroom. "This one's off limits until after your book club! Tell that husband of yours not to even so much as pee in this one! It was all over the seat! And the floor!" cried my mother as I gave her a kiss and headed out the door.
That's when it hit me.
A powerful smell so strong that my nose hairs felt singed, my eyes watered and I felt as if I may lose consciousness.
"MOM! HOLY CRAP! DID YOU EVEN DILUTE THE BLEACH?" I yelled.
"Well, yes, of course!" She looked affronted. And then grinned. "After I put it on the floor, I did!"
Bouncing off the walls as the blackness descended on me I could hear dad yelling at me, "Hey - I need some dvds to watch! What can I watch?"
I rushed out the door, pawing at the garage door opener to try to make it to freedom and fresh air.
And that, my dear friends, is how I spent my lunch. Being starved. Spittled on. And gassed.
A tale of more horror than most Halloween stories. No headless horseman could compare to Ma and Pa Adkins and their ability to make even a simple lunch into a blog-worthy event.
Oh - and I'm not supposed to tell you this but apparently Harry almost got to see a brawl at work today between a co-worker and another, presidently, gentleman.
"Did you try to break it up?" I asked.
"Hell no! I was trying to figure out how to get up and run without anyone noticing!"
Sorry, hon, but that was too funny not to be told.