Abigail to the Rescue

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NEW PROMPT:
Write a story 1000 words or less or a poem 40 lines or less about what happens when one person's pet interferes with that person's social life or relationships.
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Have you ever had guests outstay their welcome? This happened to me years ago, and the problem was solved by Abigail the calico cat.

Let me first give you some background on why I had people over to my home in the first place The local water agency notified me that my country property’s well was slightly contaminated. According to the nice, young man who had come out to check, most of my neighbors’ wells also shared the same fate because we were in farm country. Anyway, he recommended I pour bleach into the ground spout to fix the problem. Not wanting to look any more like the dumb female that I am about such items, I simply nodded as if I knew what a ground spout was or were it was located.

After mentioning this problem at work, a co-worker volunteered to do this the following weekend. We arranged for him, his wife, and 10-year-old son to come over and have what he called a “well party.” I rented a couple movies, got out my large bottle of Mai Tai mix, and put three plastic containers of Clorox bleach out in the well shed.

My co-worker (whose name I can’t remember but will call Mike) and his family arrived around three that Saturday afternoon. While the woman (Mrs. Mike) and little boy (Mike Jr.) headed inside my home to set up a little picnic, Mike and I ducked through the well shed’s open archway. The first container of bleach went quickly down the ground spout, a small covered hole located under an overgrowth of ivy. So far, so good!

A couple minutes passed before Mike asked, “Do you think one is enough?” Not waiting for me to answer, he quickly poured a second gallon of bleach and then the third and last gallon down into the well. Satisfied the job was done, we headed back into my home and the continuation of what I now years later think of as the never-ending well party.

By now it was nearly five in the afternoon, and the four of us dug into the food Mrs. Mike had spread out for us. My contribution was soda for Mike Jr. and my famous or infamous Mai Tai drinks for the adults. I’ve been told I have a heavy hand when mixing rum drinks, so I knew to have only one drink that evening.

Six o’clock came and then seven with Mike swallowing multiple Mai Tai cocktails, at first with no apparent effect. Since my small home had limited seating, Mike and his family had brought their own director chairs to watch the rented movies in comfort. I don’t remember what the first movie was, but the second one took me completely by surprise.

Instead of the expected science fiction Flash Gordon film, the title that appeared to my embarrassment was Flesh Gordon. As the movie continued with its explicit scenes, I waited for one of the parents to object to Mike Jr. seeing an R rated movie. This never happened since Mike and Mrs. Mike were amused by their young son giggling at a penis-shaped space ship. A scene I’ll never forget was of a naked woman being held up off the floor and shaken by two alien males. They did this to release a green jewel from inside her. Let me just say it was not located in her throat. Okay, it was a bit raunchy, although very funny. ‘Nuf said, right?

While the movie continued to delve into multiple double entendre jokes about sex, Mike kept drinking and making repeated trips to the bathroom. Around 11 o’clock, we watched him crawl on hands and knees from the bathroom, through the kitchen, and finally back to where the rest of us were in the front room. My rum drinks had laid low another person; even after Mrs. Mike suggested he stop drinking, her husband had a couple more of the lethal mixture.

By now the tiny clock on my DVD player showed the time was nearly midnight. More than anything I wanted my guests to leave so I could go to sleep. Opening the window to let the cold air in was my first hint to them, but it was like they were glued to their three director chairs. My wide yawns got the same reaction. I tried subtle hints about how late it was, but I guess I was too subtle. Perhaps I should have just said, “I’m sleepy. Go home!”

Mike once again swayed his way to the bathroom, and my cat Abigail must have had enough of the noisy people in her home. When Mike returned, on the canvas seat was a pile of steaming, brown poop. Unnoticed by any of us in the room, she had jumped up and expressed her annoyance in the best way a cat can.

After apologizing half heartedly as I used a paper towel to clean the seat, I watched Mike, Mrs. Mike, and Mike Jr. quickly fold up their chairs and finally go out my front door. With Mrs. Mike driving, the car left my driveway until I could see only the red tail lights going down the road. Mike and his family never again visited, for which I was grateful. The next morning, Abigail got an extra bit of tuna as a reward.

A week later, the young man from the local water agency returned to check my well for contamination. Only then did he tell me that I needed only one gallon of bleach, not the three we’d used during the well party. He didn’t even bother checking the water, saying nothing could survive all that bleach.

An odd yet pleasant side effect was that my small home smelled like a swimming pool for days afterwards.

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Microsoft Word count = 966

"The Writer's Cramp"  daily entry for 07/03/12
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