Of Mud and Mist ch. 03
The clouds are starting to bubble up again. A strong wind just picked up from the west, and I can feel the car starting to rock back and forth in its wake. Looks like tonight's earlier storm was just a warm-up - I feel a real doozy coming on!
Maybe I should I go in the restaurant and warn them. This could be a tornado brewing.
Then again, it probably isn't. Melanie's always telling me how I overreact to everything. No, this is probably just another squall. I won't disturb them.
The restaurant will be closing soon. They'll have to come out then...won't they?
Oh well. No use in sitting here getting a sore neck from watching the restaurant door. Let me finish telling you about last weekend...
I must have been quite a sight at the fair Saturday as I submissively followed behind my wife and her lover with my arms loaded down with fuzzy tigers and bears.
Let me explain. In addition to all his other talents, it turns out Ron is a crack shot at the duck range. As Melanie looked on proudly, Mr. Perfect knocked down 29 ducks in a row before finally missing. A large crowd gathered around, which only seemed to bring out the best in Ron. He must've won fifty dollars' worth of stuffed animals before it was all said and done.
And guess who got the honor of carrying them all?
They usually don't bring me along on their dates, but this time I could see why they did. In addition to my duties as pack-mule for Mel's new toys, I had to stand in the ticket line, the food line, and hold all their possessions while they rode the rides. I guess having a slave comes in handy at the fair!
My orders were to follow 20 feet behind them. They didn't want to create a spectacle, so they told me not to talk to them unless it was an emergency. With my arms full of Mel's stuffed animals, it was hard to keep up with them as they bounced from ride to ride. But they didn't seem to notice.
I had to wait patiently while they rode everything: the roller coaster, the Ferris wheel, the Wildcat, the Dipsy-Doodle, the Salt & Pepper Shaker. Mel was having the time of her life - and once again, Ron came out looking like the hero, while I stood on the sidelines, unnoticed.
At least my wife was nice enough to let me have her half-eaten candy apple. Otherwise I'd have gotten no dinner at all. I resented the fact that I had to stand in long lines for their food, while all I got to eat was a sticky apple core.
I followed them around until the fair closed. By the time we made our way back to the car, I was exhausted.
I sat quietly in the back seat the entire ride home. My only companions were Melanie's stuffed animals - no one in the front seat said anything to me as they excitedly recapped the day's adventures.
When we pulled up in front of the house, Ron finally turned to me. "There's a couple loads of laundry in the trunk," he said, pulling the keys out of the ignition and tossing them in my lap. "I'm going home tomorrow morning, so make sure it's all done by then."
With that, they both got out of the car and walked hand-in-hand toward the house. I waited until they went inside, then I struggled to get out of the cramped back seat.
When I opened the trunk, my heart sank. There were three huge garbage bags full of Ron's dirty clothes! I'd just washed his stuff last weekend - how in the hell did he go through that many clothes in a week?!?
I carried the bags into the house and dejectedly started separating the mountains of laundry. I knew it would take me all night to finish everything by morning. The worst part is, Melanie insists that I hand-wash all Ron's clothes - she thinks it's "cute" to see me bent over the laundry sink arduously scrubbing Ron's underwear. So I gritted my teeth and braced for a long evening of soap suds and dirty sweatsocks...
I held a pair of Ron's slacks up and studied them for a minute. Expensive dress-pants; Ron has good taste in clothing, I'll give him that much.
And, unfortunately for me, he also has good taste in women!
I was up to my elbows in soapy water when I heard Melanie call for me. Fast as I could, I dried my hands and rushed into the bedroom to see what my wife wanted.
"Bring me a beer, Davy," she said as soon as I entered the room. She didn't even bother to look up from the television.
"Yes, Mistress." I turned to Ron, who was lying next to my wife on the bed. "Would you like anything to drink, sir?" I asked respectfully.
"Yeah, I'll have a cold one, too, Davy," he said lazily as he yawned and scratched his balls.
When I returned with the beers, Ron was sitting on the edge of the bed holding his shoes.
"Thanks, Davy," he said, snatching the can from my hand. "Now I've got another job for you." He thrusted his shoes toward me and smiled. "Put a good shine on these for me, Davy." He tossed back a swig of his beer, then looked me in the eyes and belched at me. "Do the soles, too."
It was quite humiliating to be kneeling at the foot of the bed polishing Ron's shoes while they relaxed and watched television. They didn't say much to each other except during the commercials. And they didn't say a word to me.
As their program was going off, Melanie finally broke the silence.
"Tell me something, Davy: do you enjoy shining Ron's shoes?" As she asked her humiliating question, she looked at Ron, who flashed her a wink.
She continued hammering at me: "Tell me the truth, Davy: do you enjoy shining his shoes and doing his laundry?" She leaned toward me and whispered: "Do you enjoy washing the doo-doo stains out of my honey's underwear?"
That got a big laugh from Ron. I wasn't sure what I should say. I certainly do not like doing Ron's laundry...but I was sure that wasn't the answer my wife wanted to hear!
"Uh...yes, Mistress," was all I could come up with. But it wasn't enough.
"Yes, what?" Melanie badgered. "Say it."
I averted my eyes and whispered, "Yes, Mistress, I enjoy washing Ron's clothes."
SLAP! My wife's backhand rattled my teeth. "What are you looking at? The floor?" She grabbed my hair and pulled my face upright. "Now say it again - the right way!"
It was difficult, but I managed to look my wife in the eyes. "Yes, Mistress, I enjoy washing..."
SLLLLAAAAP! Another hard blow snapped my head back. "What are you telling me for, creep?" she hissed. "Don't tell me - tell Ron!"
This was too much. I looked over at my wife's smirking lover.
"Uh...yes, sir, I enjoy washing your clothes...sir." My voice cracked a few times during the simple sentence.
Ron smiled and looked over at Melanie with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, isn't he just a peach?" he asked my wife, who nodded in agreement.
Ron turned toward me again. "Davy, if you keep this up, you're going to spoil me!" he said as he leaned back and put his arm around my wife. "I mean, a man could get used to this!"
Finally I was dismissed, and I thankfully rushed back to the safety of the laundry room. I still had a long way to go on Ron's dirty clothes, but anything was better than facing their laughter.
I sighed and plunged into my task of hand-laundering the huge pile of dirty clothes. I knew I was in for a long night of washing. My back was already starting to ache...
* * *
The rain is pouring down now, and the wind sounds like an old hound dog barking at the moon. I just remembered something: Melanie didn't remember to bring an umbrella tonight! Ha!
Wait a minute, what am I laughing about? If Mel's hair gets wet, she'll blame me - and then I'll get my ass beat!
I just can't win...
THE END
Maybe I should I go in the restaurant and warn them. This could be a tornado brewing.
Then again, it probably isn't. Melanie's always telling me how I overreact to everything. No, this is probably just another squall. I won't disturb them.
The restaurant will be closing soon. They'll have to come out then...won't they?
Oh well. No use in sitting here getting a sore neck from watching the restaurant door. Let me finish telling you about last weekend...
I must have been quite a sight at the fair Saturday as I submissively followed behind my wife and her lover with my arms loaded down with fuzzy tigers and bears.
Let me explain. In addition to all his other talents, it turns out Ron is a crack shot at the duck range. As Melanie looked on proudly, Mr. Perfect knocked down 29 ducks in a row before finally missing. A large crowd gathered around, which only seemed to bring out the best in Ron. He must've won fifty dollars' worth of stuffed animals before it was all said and done.
And guess who got the honor of carrying them all?
They usually don't bring me along on their dates, but this time I could see why they did. In addition to my duties as pack-mule for Mel's new toys, I had to stand in the ticket line, the food line, and hold all their possessions while they rode the rides. I guess having a slave comes in handy at the fair!
My orders were to follow 20 feet behind them. They didn't want to create a spectacle, so they told me not to talk to them unless it was an emergency. With my arms full of Mel's stuffed animals, it was hard to keep up with them as they bounced from ride to ride. But they didn't seem to notice.
I had to wait patiently while they rode everything: the roller coaster, the Ferris wheel, the Wildcat, the Dipsy-Doodle, the Salt & Pepper Shaker. Mel was having the time of her life - and once again, Ron came out looking like the hero, while I stood on the sidelines, unnoticed.
At least my wife was nice enough to let me have her half-eaten candy apple. Otherwise I'd have gotten no dinner at all. I resented the fact that I had to stand in long lines for their food, while all I got to eat was a sticky apple core.
I followed them around until the fair closed. By the time we made our way back to the car, I was exhausted.
I sat quietly in the back seat the entire ride home. My only companions were Melanie's stuffed animals - no one in the front seat said anything to me as they excitedly recapped the day's adventures.
When we pulled up in front of the house, Ron finally turned to me. "There's a couple loads of laundry in the trunk," he said, pulling the keys out of the ignition and tossing them in my lap. "I'm going home tomorrow morning, so make sure it's all done by then."
With that, they both got out of the car and walked hand-in-hand toward the house. I waited until they went inside, then I struggled to get out of the cramped back seat.
When I opened the trunk, my heart sank. There were three huge garbage bags full of Ron's dirty clothes! I'd just washed his stuff last weekend - how in the hell did he go through that many clothes in a week?!?
I carried the bags into the house and dejectedly started separating the mountains of laundry. I knew it would take me all night to finish everything by morning. The worst part is, Melanie insists that I hand-wash all Ron's clothes - she thinks it's "cute" to see me bent over the laundry sink arduously scrubbing Ron's underwear. So I gritted my teeth and braced for a long evening of soap suds and dirty sweatsocks...
I held a pair of Ron's slacks up and studied them for a minute. Expensive dress-pants; Ron has good taste in clothing, I'll give him that much.
And, unfortunately for me, he also has good taste in women!
I was up to my elbows in soapy water when I heard Melanie call for me. Fast as I could, I dried my hands and rushed into the bedroom to see what my wife wanted.
"Bring me a beer, Davy," she said as soon as I entered the room. She didn't even bother to look up from the television.
"Yes, Mistress." I turned to Ron, who was lying next to my wife on the bed. "Would you like anything to drink, sir?" I asked respectfully.
"Yeah, I'll have a cold one, too, Davy," he said lazily as he yawned and scratched his balls.
When I returned with the beers, Ron was sitting on the edge of the bed holding his shoes.
"Thanks, Davy," he said, snatching the can from my hand. "Now I've got another job for you." He thrusted his shoes toward me and smiled. "Put a good shine on these for me, Davy." He tossed back a swig of his beer, then looked me in the eyes and belched at me. "Do the soles, too."
It was quite humiliating to be kneeling at the foot of the bed polishing Ron's shoes while they relaxed and watched television. They didn't say much to each other except during the commercials. And they didn't say a word to me.
As their program was going off, Melanie finally broke the silence.
"Tell me something, Davy: do you enjoy shining Ron's shoes?" As she asked her humiliating question, she looked at Ron, who flashed her a wink.
She continued hammering at me: "Tell me the truth, Davy: do you enjoy shining his shoes and doing his laundry?" She leaned toward me and whispered: "Do you enjoy washing the doo-doo stains out of my honey's underwear?"
That got a big laugh from Ron. I wasn't sure what I should say. I certainly do not like doing Ron's laundry...but I was sure that wasn't the answer my wife wanted to hear!
"Uh...yes, Mistress," was all I could come up with. But it wasn't enough.
"Yes, what?" Melanie badgered. "Say it."
I averted my eyes and whispered, "Yes, Mistress, I enjoy washing Ron's clothes."
SLAP! My wife's backhand rattled my teeth. "What are you looking at? The floor?" She grabbed my hair and pulled my face upright. "Now say it again - the right way!"
It was difficult, but I managed to look my wife in the eyes. "Yes, Mistress, I enjoy washing..."
SLLLLAAAAP! Another hard blow snapped my head back. "What are you telling me for, creep?" she hissed. "Don't tell me - tell Ron!"
This was too much. I looked over at my wife's smirking lover.
"Uh...yes, sir, I enjoy washing your clothes...sir." My voice cracked a few times during the simple sentence.
Ron smiled and looked over at Melanie with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, isn't he just a peach?" he asked my wife, who nodded in agreement.
Ron turned toward me again. "Davy, if you keep this up, you're going to spoil me!" he said as he leaned back and put his arm around my wife. "I mean, a man could get used to this!"
Finally I was dismissed, and I thankfully rushed back to the safety of the laundry room. I still had a long way to go on Ron's dirty clothes, but anything was better than facing their laughter.
I sighed and plunged into my task of hand-laundering the huge pile of dirty clothes. I knew I was in for a long night of washing. My back was already starting to ache...
* * *
The rain is pouring down now, and the wind sounds like an old hound dog barking at the moon. I just remembered something: Melanie didn't remember to bring an umbrella tonight! Ha!
Wait a minute, what am I laughing about? If Mel's hair gets wet, she'll blame me - and then I'll get my ass beat!
I just can't win...
THE END
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