Playing hooky

Mary sat at her kitchen table, sipping daintily from her favorite coffee cup with a satisfied look on her face. She had decided, quite impulsively, to call out of work this morning. She had told her boss that she was sick but the real reason was far more pleasant. She simply wanted to have a second cup of coffee and work on her novel, “The Last Butterfly.” While she enjoyed this rare second cup she was surprised by a knock at the door, an uncommon occurrence at her isolated house. As she was making her way to the door the phone began to ring. What in the devil is going on?

Mary got to the door and looked out the small window to see who was knocking. It was a man dressed as a chicken.

“Yes?” Mary asked through the door.

“I’ve got a delivery for Jimmy.” The chicken man replied

Mary, leaving the door chain latched, cracked the door. The man smiled at her and said “I’ve got a sixteen piece family combo here, and a two liter of coke”

“I’m sorry, you have what?” Mary asked the man, the phone still ringing in the background.

“Fried chicken ma’am”

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone delivered fried chicken. I’m sorry though you have the wrong address.”

The man in the chicken suit checked the numbers above the door. “Eighteen thirty eight.” The man confirmed. “Is this not Westmont court?”

“This is Westmont Way” Mary replied. “I couldn’t begin to imagine where you might find Westmont court around here. Or any court for that matter, I don’t believe there is a cul-de-sac to be found anywhere in the county.”

The chicken man shook his head with a smile “GPS…technology is supposed to help us isn’t it? Well sorry for disturbing you ma’am. Have a good day.”

“You too.” Mary said as the man turned away.

The phone had stopped ringing by the time Mary returned to the kitchen and her coffee. She picked up her laptop and coffee cup and went into the living room. She sat down in her writing chair, swung the desktop over her lap, and wiggled her hips to settle in. Mary smiled broadly as she thought about how her morning would play out. She opened her laptop and pressed the power button then went for a sip of coffee. The moment the hot liquid met with her lips the telephone rang.

Mary was so startled that she jumped, forcing too much coffee into her mouth. She had to tilt her head back and open her mouth all the way, trying to breathe around the hot coffee in that comical way that offers scant relief. Her heavy breathing earned her a cocked head from Mr. Charlie, her overweight Siamese cat who was just coming through his kitty door. After fifteen seconds or so Mary was able to swallow the coffee. She untangled herself from her writing chair and ran over to the phone. This better be about someone dying or someone winning the lottery

Mary answered the phone. “Hello”

“Hey how you doin’?” A man’s voice boomed through the phone.

“Um, o.k. I guess, can I ask who’s calling?”

“Yea this is Jimmy Dumbrowski, pleased to talk to ya. I tried calling a few minutes ago but got no answer.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “And how can I help you Mr. Dumbrowski? I’m rather busy right now.”

“Understandable.” The man said knowingly. “I just wanna sign my kid up for the Tiny Buddhas seminar next month. I need to make sure he has a spot or my wife will have my ‘you know whats’ in a pickle jar.”

Mary grimaced at the thought of this inappropriate man’s ‘you know whats’ “You’re trying to do what sir?”

“Sign my boy up for your seminar. He really wants to be a Tiny Buddha." The man said uncertainly. “Wait, is this Jacklyn Robinson?”

“Absolutely not sir, you have the wrong number and I am very busy this morning and now I must go. Good luck with your…kid…thing.” Mary hung up without waiting for a response.

“All I want to do is have a relaxing morning to myself.” Mary said aloud.

“Meow” said Mr. Charlie. He was doing figure eight’s around Marys’ legs. His fur was wet.

“Mr. Charlie what have you gotten into?” She asked the plump cat. His only response was to stretch up on his hind legs and dig his claws into Mary’s knee.

Looking around the living room, Mary noticed a trail of wet foot prints leading into the back of the house. With a longing glance at her writing chair, set up for comfort, Mary started down the hallway towards the back. The paw prints led her into the laundry room where she found a disheartening sight. The washer was rocking unsteadily and blowing bubbles from the crack around the lid.

“Oh cheese and rice!” Mary made a fist and stomped her foot on the ground. “What the…GOD what’s wrong with the world this morning?”

Mr. Charlie came in and started walking through the water on the floor, stopping occasionally to shake his front paws. He at least seemed happy with the situation.

Mary took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She shut off the washer and carefully pulled it away from the wall to get the phone number from the back. Writing the number on the back of her hand she walked back to the living room to make the call.

Mary explained her situation to the woman on the phone who made sympathetic noises in all the right places.

“Okay ma’am let’s get that taken care of for you. I’m going to transfer you to one of our emergency response techs”

“Thank you” Mary said but the woman was gone and the call was being transferred.

A large, boisterous voice answered on the third ring. “Jimmy Dumbrowski here, how can I help you today?”

“I should’ve gone to work.” Mary said morosely.