The Real Surprise [FICTION]

 “Come for dinner on your birthday?” Mom asked hopefully.

Though I had been thinking about spending the day with my friends, I couldn’t say no to my mother. After all, she did all the work of getting me here. Besides, only she knew the magic formula to make my favorite cake just right.

“Okay, mom. I’d love to!”

Her squeal of delight clued me in to expect more than just cake perfection, but I decided not to worry about it. (Seriously, that cake is worth any number of uncomfortable inconveniences.)

—

Two weeks later, I stood at her door, bearing flowers and a box of her favorite gourmet cookies. Like any good hobbit, I give gifts on my birthday. As the door opened, my mother pulled me into her arms and squeezed me so tight that I was sure I would need an ophthalmologist to pop my eyes back into place. I was so distracted by my bulging eyes, the chorus of surprise that greeted me in the dining room elicited the reaction she hoped for.

“Hello, everyone,” I squeaked out slowly as my swollen orbs took in the amazing array of friendly sardines packed into the room.

Nestled among familiar friends and infamous family, two faces stood out. Each sported traces of food from the buffet on their round, jovial faces. The similarities ended there. One sported a long, green cloak and light brown curls falling into his eyes. The other wore not a stitch of clothing but maintained modesty with blue fur.

I turned to my mother, whispering in awe, “How did you get Cookie Monster and Samwise to come to my party?”

“Never doubt a mother’s love.” She beamed at me.

I radiated light of my own until I turned back to my guests. My eyes instantly sought out my most unexpected guests. Sam and Cookie eyed each other suspiciously. Then they turned away from each other and casually approached the buffet table, which took a cue from Pittsburgh weddings and featured an array of cookies and treats. They selected items from opposite ends of the table and devoured them with relish, moving away from the table as other guests surveyed their options. I lost sight of them as my mother presented me with a generous portion of cake. I nibbled on a bite of ganache before delving deeper into the layers of wonder.

“Are you enjoying your party?” My mother sought reassurance a little later.

I smiled around my last bite of cake and nodded my head emphatically.

“Here. Let me get you another piece. It is your big day after all.”

As I allowed my mother to plate another huge slice of birthday cake for me, my attention strayed from pleasing my taste buds to increased activity around the cookie table. At the center of the table, a giant cookie cake remained untouched. No one had worked up the courage to slice through the heap of frosting roses atop the chocolate chip laden treasure. But now two contenders stood ready to take on the challenge of not just one piece but the whole sugar-infused creation. 

Cookie’s mouth hung open in surprise as his hand met Sam’s on the edge of the decorative tray. “Me eat cookie…”

“No, I want this one.” Sam’s eyes strayed lovingly over the sweet floral accents.

“But me want it…”

“I think you should finish the crumbs in your fur first, you big blue orc.”

“Me no orc. You obviously eat enough.” Cookie reached out to pat Sam’s prodigious tummy with a hint of affection.

“I’m a hobbit. We are made this way.” Sam’s eyes narrowed as he placed his hand more firmly on the tray holding the coveted confection.

One of my friends stepped forward to suggest that they share, but neither Cookie Monster nor Samwise acknowledged that he had spoken. Cookie placed his own furry mitt next to Sam’s and they leaned forward to challenge each other with narrowed eyes. Then they both hoisted the cookie as if controlled by one mind and turned with open mouths. The cookie splatted both of their faces, sticking firmly thanks to the roses. As they ate their way through their portion, crumbs and drips of frosting shot across the room.

“Well, honey, glad you’re having a sweet birthday,” my mother laughed as sweet crumbs and icing drops rained down around us.

—

This one was a struggle because I was supposed to pick my two favorite characters, but picking a favorite is impossible. I figured limiting it to Humanoids might make it easier, but then I thought too hard about cookies. I hope I chose wisely and made someone giggle besides myself. Also, feel free to mail me gifts or send me gift cards. Hobbits love giving and receiving after all.

Surprise Gift [FICTION]

“Too early.” I mumble grumpily, fumbling for my phone to delay waking up just a bit longer.

As I look at the screen, I realize no alarm has sounded. In fact, this early hour should never be interrupted by an alarm. Sighing, I realize that the only noise similar to my alarm resides next to my front door. I stumble there slowly, determined not to hurry for whatever rude dream crasher or solemn bearer of bad news awaits. By the time I reach the door, I wonder if I imagined the doorbell. I open it anyway and peer out into the square of light provided by the open door.

The dim glow reveals my doormat. I grumble and turn back toward my warm bed. A soft scratching noise draws me further out onto the porch. I make out the blocky shape of a medium-sized box next to the stairs. Something within scratches at the sturdy cardboard. I peer up and down the street at the dark houses. Nothing stirs but me—not even a mouse. In fact, the box now falls under the morning spell of silence, too.

A couple tentative steps bring me to the mysterious package. I take in a deep breath, cross my fingers, and prepare to flee. One flap. Two flaps. Gasp.

Nestled in a fluffy fleece blanket striped in white and red, a teeny baby sucks on a pacifier shaped like an evergreen bedecked for the season. As I marvel at the peaceful, sleeping face, I notice that pointy ears poke out from under the pointed green hat. I lift up another flap and find a note scrawled in red crayon.

“Please watch my baby boy until Santa can come to take him home. I had to leave the North Pole for cookie rehab, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave little Pepper Mint behind just yet.”

“Okay, Pepper, let’s get you inside,” I carefully lift the box and carry it inside.

I bring the box into my room and place it next to my bed. The tiny bundle doesn’t stir as I crawl into bed. In fact, he doesn’t make a single peep until I lift the flaps of the box and allow light to filter in over his sweet face the next morning. Instead of wailing, he blinks his eyes at me and opens his mouth. When I fail to fill it with food, he jams as much of his hand inside as he can and begins sucking avidly. All the while, he watches me with large green eyes.

“Oh, crap, what do baby elves eat?” I debate with myself. “Probably milk or formula. Do they make elf formula?”

The baby coos at me like he knows I am working on his breakfast. He’d probably learn to speak and hurry me along if he knew I have no idea what to give him. As I ponder exactly what needs to be done, a gentle hand falls on my shoulder.

“Whatcha got there, hon?” my husband’s deep voice breaks into my thoughts as he peers over my shoulder. “Something you need to tell me?”

“Someone dropped this little guy off on our doorstep last night.”

“Which one of your weird friends dropped off a baby dressed as hobbit for us babysit?”

I turn to glare at him, “Those are his real ears.”

“Really? So which one of your friends has hobbit ears?”

“It’s an elf…” I cry in exasperation.

“Like Legolas?”

“No. From the North Pole.”

The baby punctuates our conversation with a loud noise followed by an aroma wafting over us like a candy cane fell in a pile of dog poo. I cover my nose. Gill looks a little green.

“I believe her, little guy, geez.” He makes a break for the door.

I start to follow, but a plaintive wail lures me back into the stink zone. I try to hold my breath, but my daughters choose that moment to sneak and snuggle. Three little bodies crash into my legs, reaching wildly for any part of me to hug as we all tumble to the ground next to the box. 

“Mom. You farted.” Liza exclaims in horror.

“Yeah. Ick.” Anya backs her up.

Tabitha reserves judgement as she scrambles to her feet. She pauses on her way out of the room. Her head tilts to the side and her eyes light up as she sees the box.

“Maybe it wasn’t mom.” She scampers over to pull back the lid. “But that’s not a puppy.”

Despite the smell, all three girls cluster around Pepper who offers them all soft coos of delight. His coos fade to whimpers of hunger as he gets used to three dark-haired creatures hovering over him as they fire off questions. 

“Where did you get him mom?”

“Did you and dad finally make us a brother?”

“Why do his ears look like that?”

“Yeah. I want pointy ears.”

“Can I hold him?”

My voice finally breaks through the chaos, “Sure. You can hold him. If you want to change him.”

Their little voices stop as they all stare at me in horror. “Ew, mom. That’s your job.”

I look to Gill for support, but he disappeared during the chaos. I sigh.

“Okay, hon, we did still have a diaper bag from when Tabitha was still potty training. And you’ll be glad to know that we still have some supplies in here.”

He offers me the slightly dusty bag and I stare at him intently until he slings it over his own shoulder. “I guess I can help the little guy out.” He leans into the box to claim the tiny bundle of stinky joy.

With a glance at the girls, he carries the little guy into the guest room and closes the door to a chorus of complaints.

“Come on, girls. Daddy is going to help Pepper while we see if we have anything he can eat.”

“Hey, what about me. I’m hungry, too.” Anya whines.

“I know exactly what to make for my girls,” I inform them, “Blueberry pancakes.”

“With whipped cream,” they add in chorus.

“I couldn’t forget the whipped cream.” I laugh as we troop down the stores. 

As if the Christmas Spirit foretold my needs, I find a container of formula  and a clean bottle that my sister forgot on her last visit and the formula is still good. I quickly add some filtered water. The girls mug me for the chance to shake the bottle. By the time Gill comes downstairs with our guest, little elf lungs are helping proclaim his hunger and three little girls are begging to be the one to feed him. 

“Come on, little helpers,” Gill sits down in the middle of the couch and the girls crowd around him as he uses the bottle as a plug to stem the flow of aggravated noises.

Soon the air is filled with the sounds of admiring girls, contented sucking, and me humming as I rustle up pancakes for my crew. My husband seems content in all the chaos, especially when I reward him with chocolate chip pancakes with peanut butter sauce instead of syrup. After fortifying ourselves with breakfast, I call some friends to see if anyone has some baby items we can borrow. Luckily, most of them are bigger hoarders than me, so Pepper will be living in style for the duration of his stay.

Over the next week, we all become attached to Pepper. Gill and the girls treat him like an exotic pet. I catch them trying to teach him tricks every time I turn around. The girls even try to bribe him with chunks of candy cane even after I explain why they shouldn’t. A threat to disappear all of the refreshing peppermint treats finally convinces them to listen.

Christmas Eve brings snow, anticipation of gifts to come, and bittersweet emotions about Pepper returning home. I decide to succeed where generations of children have failed and stay up to confront jolly old Saint Nicholas. Clearly, Pepper’s mother doesn’t have what it takes to care for him. With the right haircut, he could stay under my watchful care a little longer.

As the rest of my family snuggles down in their beds, no doubt dreaming of Christmas Day cinnamon rolls instead of sugarplums, I settle into my recliner with Pepper’s borrowed bassinet close by my side. I open the latest thriller in my ever growing to be read pile and step into the story. Though the heart-pounding action should keep me awake and anxious, the soft, steady breathing of my elf baby comforts and calms me.

When I wake from my unplanned nap, my eyes instantly go to the bassinet. Empty. Yet his sweet peppermint aroma still lingers in the air. A tear rolls down my cheek. When I reach up to wipe it away, paper rustles against my cheek.

“You have been a good human auntie to baby Pepper. Just more proof why you were always on the nice list. I know all your arguments for letting him stay with you. The only one that matters is how much your family loves him, but his North Pole family loves him just as much. I promise to let you know how he is doing and I know his mom will want to bring him to see you when she is herself again. Merry Christmas. Enjoy your bonus gift.”

Under the letter, a neatly wrapped package warms my lap. I open it slowly to unveil a sweater with “Elf Auntie” carefully woven into a pattern of snowflakes and candy canes. I pull it over my head and find that it smells of gingerbread and peppermint. I admire the packages of varying sizes  under the tree as I wait for the rest of my family to join me. Soon they begin tumbling downstairs with wide eyes.

“Pepper.” The girls cry, rushing to the bassinet instead of the tree.

“He went home with Santa.” I bite my lip, worrying about their reaction to this news though I told them from the beginning that when the gifts arrived, Pepper would return to his home.

“Lucky,” Tabitha says.

“Yeah. Why couldn’t we go with him to the North Pole?” Anya adds.

“Maybe Santa will let us come visit Pepper,” Liza eyes the piles of presents as she speaks. “Let’s see what he brought us and then we can ask him about Pepper in our thank you notes.”

Soon wrapping paper flying through the air distracts us from the absence of elven cuteness, but it also reminds us of what a magical place he has moved on to. Besides, maybe Santa will let us come visit him at the North Pole.

~~

Happy Friday! Happy Holidays! Are you prepped? Are you ready? Do you have your own stinky little elves to help you finish up those last minute cookies? I hope so.

Tentative Trip [FICTION]

My best friend Patty insisted this would be the best way to catch up. I used to have nightmares about the ocean, so I tried to talk her into anything but a cruise. She wouldn’t be swayed, so I packed my bags and joined her at the boarding gate. She giggled excitedly. I tried to hold back the disturbance already brewing in my stomach.

Our first evening went surprisingly well. The second day found us about ready to pull out into the ocean as beautiful sunlight filtered down on the deck of our ship. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in some lounge chairs watching the ocean—after we claimed them from the buffet. By lunchtime, I regretted my choice of heavy pastries. I don’t remember grabbing the huge pile of wax-lined bags, but I was grateful to have them as the ship pitched this way and that as I lay on my bed feeling miserable.

Patty came looking for me around lunchtime and found me still curled up in the fetal position on my bed. I barely understood her as she handed me a tiny pill and a glass of water and commanded me to take it. She shushed me as I tried to explain that putting anything into my stomach was asking for trouble, so I took the pill and hoped she’d stay around long enough to see the error in her ways.

With a sad face, she bustled off to claim food from the buffet. I curled back up on my bed and fell asleep. When I woke up, the sunlight indicated that sunset approached. I gently stretched out my legs, surprised to not feel instantly compelled to roll back into a ball. That success emboldened me. I slowly sat up and swung my feet to the floor. Instead of rumbling threateningly, my stomach gurgled hungrily. I checked the time, relieved to find that the buffet would remain open for a half hour. 

As I slipped on flip flops and pulled open my door, I found a note from Patty telling me she already had dinner and reminding me that she left me a box of seasickness pills on my bathroom sink. I didn’t remember her telling me in the first place, so I said a little prayer of thanks for her intuitiveness. I turned around and read the box carefully before tucking it into my pocket. I knew I wouldn’t want to be without those.

I found the buffet mostly empty, except for fresh food that the wait staff brought out when I wandered in behind a party of six that either hadn’t found their sea legs or found their way to the bar much earlier in the day. A whiff of one of the women confirmed that it was option two. I tried to avoid getting within smelling distance of any of them on subsequent trips to the buffet. I ate slowly to assure myself that anything introduced to my stomach would stay there. After a light meal and pocketing some fruit for later, I wandered out to the top deck. 

A few couples walked hand in hand, whispering to each other under the dim overhead lights. I gave them wide berth and they remained unaware that they were not alone. I stepped over to the railing, expecting to see the water stirred up around us as the ship cut through the water toward out destination. Instead I saw only the gentle sweep of the ocean. We weren’t moving, we were stalled on the high seas. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this trip.

As if to further convince me how foolhardy my choice had been, a movement along the hull of the ship caught my attention. A tentacle rose out of the water and cupped the side of the ship. Another followed. And another. Until eight tentacles loving enveloped the ship. I stifled a scream and chose a more proactive way to deal with this phenomenon. I went in search of the captain. The staff members I encountered didn’t know where he was and seemed unconvinced by my report of what I had seen.

I stumbled back into the ship, searching for anyone who can lead me to the captain. I finally came across a waiter dragging weary feet along the carpet on his way to his bunk.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes, ma’am?” His eyes begged me to have a simple request or none at all.

I tried to keep it simple. “Do you know where the captain is?”

“Naw. No one ever knows where he is until they see him.” 

“Is there a vice captain?”

“A what?”

“A vice captain…like a vice president. Someone who has authority when the captain is sleeping or whatever?”

“Not exactly, but the head engineer should be able to help you out.”

“And where would I find him?” I asked in exasperation.

“He likes to get an ice cream cone before bed and he goes to bed early.” The waiter rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I’ll look around the soft serve machine then.” I mumbled and went in that direction.

“Good luck, ma’am.” His weary voice followed me.

No one loitered around the soft serve machine. Until I reached it, I thought the idea of eating an ice cream cone at this hour ludicrous. Looking at the gently whirring machine changed my mind. I grabbed a sugar cone and filled it up with a creamy chocolate vanilla swirl. Halfway through my late snack, a thin older man joined me. He grinned under his bushy grey mustache.

“Too good to resist one more before bed, I always say.” He greeted me in an Irish brogue, grabbed a cake cone, and filled it expertly.

Mesmerized I forgot to say anything. Luckily, he filled the silence as he grabbed the shaker of sprinkles and decorated his treat.

“You look like that might not be strong enough for what ails you.”

“Pardon?” I croaked.

“You’re pale and you’re shaking.”

“Are you the head engineer?”

He blinked a couple of times before tentatively replying. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I can’t find the captain and I have to talk to someone about something I saw.”

His mouth formed a straight line as he looks at me. “Did one of the staff do something…”

“No. Come with me. You won’t believe me if you don’t see it.”

“As you wish, ma’am.” He gestured gallantly with his cone.

I headed back up to the top deck, half afraid that the creature would disappear before we reached the railing. I forgot to breath until we both looked at the tentacles over the railing.

“Well, that’s something.” He said calmly, clearing his throat a little as he swallowed the last of his cone.

“Something? Something indeed. A giant sea creature has ahold of our ship.” I realized that the water around us roiled due to the ship now being in motion and traveling rather fast. “And it is taking us somewhere at top speed.”

“I wouldn’t worry about, if I were you.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I can’t say that I am. You see lots of things when you travel the oceans as much as I do.” He looked away from me.

“You’ve seen this creature before.”

He cleared his throat again. “You could say that.”

“So you know what is going to happen to us.” I bit my lip, holding back the hysteria bubbling to the surface.

“Calm down, ma’am. I am going to tell you something in strictest confidence because I can see that not knowing isn’t going to end well, for you but I must ask you not to share. It isn’t my secret to tell, after all. You understand?”

I didn’t really but I nodded my head slowly.

“That’s the captain. Whenever his ship stalls or encounters trouble, he becomes that creature and carries her safely home. It’s a right love story.”

I stared at him.

“I didn’t believe it at first either.” He reached out to stabilize my elbow. “How long ago did you first see him?”

I stared at the tentacles, thinking about what I had done since. “Maybe a half hour.”

“Let’s stay here a little longer.”

I nodded again, leaning against the railing. He didn’t release my elbow. If anything, he gripped it tighter. As we watched the ocean rolling around us, I felt the exhaustion seeping into my bones.

“Here we go.” The head engineer pointed to the furthest tentacle, which lowered into the water.

Soon only four tentacles remained above water. They seemed to shrink into themselves, becoming smaller. Then they gripped the wall and began climbing toward us. As the creature got closer, its body grew more and more human. As the tentacles gripped the railing near me, they disappeared into the arms and legs of a familiar man—more familiar than on our last meeting as he was naked. He lowered his hands to try to cover as much as he could which only made me look in the direction they had fallen. My cheeks flushed and I looked away, wishing to look anywhere but at the captain.

“Jameson, I didn’t expect to be meeting one of our passengers.”

“Sorry, sir, she noticed you towing the ship to keep us on schedule.”

“Ah. So sorry to have worried you, ma’am. I don’t suppose you’d care to eat with me at my table for dinner tomorrow to make up for the worry I caused.”

“I’m here with a friend.” I responded numbly.

“Excellent. The more the merrier. Though perhaps we shouldn’t tell your friend about this.”

“She’d never believe me.”

“Most people don’t believe what they can’t see. You can turn around now. Jameson is always kind enough to meet me up here with a change of clothe.”

I half turned, relieved to find him now clad in swim shorts and a tank top. 

“Shall we?” He offered me his arm and Jameson took the other.

I shrugged and accepted. This evening couldn’t get any weirder after all.

~~Late again. Hope you enjoyed fireworks, friends, family, and fun over the holiday weekend. We were treated to fireworks three days in a row—though my child thought they were thunder and was too scared to sleep like she needed to. But we are awake now and I offer this for your reading pleasure…~~

My Husband’s New Home [FICTION]

“But I hate moving.” I frown as my dear husband presents his idea.

“But this new place is so much larger than this one.” He looks around our cozy two bedroom apartment with distaste.

“You called it spacious when you sold me on moving in here.” I cross my arms and plant my feet on the floor.

He grins at me, “But this is more spacious. Imagine what you could do with all that space?”

“Fill it with things to clean?”

“You’re getting it.” He smirks.

“No. No. I am not.” I roll my eyes at him.

“You have to see it, at least. Come on.”

“Fine.” I relent. “I will look at it…”

“And give it a chance?”

“If you say so…”

“Let’s go?” He stands up and reaches for his keys.

I sigh and follow him out the door. He keeps up a constant litany of the advantages of this new apartment on the way there. I begin to think he is trying to distract me as we turn down a street full of questionable buildings. The disturbing accommodations culminate in a train yard with an immense empty warehouse next to it.

“No.” The word leaps from the my lips without thought.

“You said you would give it a chance.”

“You said it was an apartment.”

“I never said it was an apartment. I said it was larger.”

“We can’t live here.”

“Come inside. You’ll change your mind.”

“No.” The more I say it, the more I mean it.

He laughs and pulls into a spot. I shudder as one tire sinks into a pothole. He comes around to open my door, as if he has brought me to a fancy restaurant. He throws it open with a flourish. I step inside.

I instantly close my eyes. It is worse than I anticipated. The ceiling goes on forever to bare metal rafters. The entirety of the space is one huge room.

“Is there even a bathroom?” I ask.

He clears his throat. “Not yet, but that is the beauty of it. We can build what we want.”

“Oh yeah? How would the owner feel about that?”

He grins at me.

I frown at him and wait for him to speak. His failure to respond and the ever widening grin finally get through my thick skull.

“We’re the owners…” My breath catches on the words. “Which means we have no money left, doesn’t it?”

Once more, he doesn’t answer.

~~Remember when your husband annoys you that it could always be worse or better depending on how you feel about huge surprises. This was supposed to be last week’s post, so it looks like I owe you one. Won’t it be a surprise if I remember to post it???”~~

Morning Surprise [FICTION]

Darkness greets me as I reluctantly open my eyes. The beeping of my alarm clock continues as I grumble and roll out of bed. I stumble to the opposite side of the room where I keep my alarm to insure I actually leave my bed. After vanquishing the sound, I stumble into the bathroom, reluctantly flipping on the light switch to bath my ancient shower stall in tepid light.

With a sigh, I turn on the water, so it can be as tepid the light by the time my teeth are clean. Soon my ablutions are done, my towel is sopping wet, and I need clothes to face the day.

I flip on the overhead light and stumble toward my dresser, deftly selecting an outfit without even looking. I am satisfied with my choice until I glance in the mirror. My reflection reveals that the shirt I am wearing doesn’t look right. I sigh heavily and head for the closet.

“A light jacket will fix this,” I mumble as I throw open the door and reach inside.

I scream. Instead of being met with the soft resistance of clothes, something hard bumps against my hand and then clatters eerily against itself. I take a deep bracing breath and open the door further to peer inside. Empty eye sockets stare back at me surrounded by yellowed bone. A toothy smile leers back at me despite the absence of two front teeth.

A handwritten note flutters from a string around its neck as I step closer, “I know all the skeletons in your closet.”

As I register the handwriting, my horror and revulsion fade to childish tittering. In fact, my laughter brings on a bought of hysteria. Soon I am lying on the floor, gasping for breath around violent guffaws.

When I finally pull myself together again, I rise from the floor and send a text.

“Found ur friend. Come get him.”

I wait for a couple of minutes without a reply before realizing that seven in the morning is way too early for the recipient to be awake. I reach past my closet’s new inhabitant to claim a light jacket. 

My unexpected houseguest slips from my mind as I rush through my morning tasks. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the clock.

“11:00. Right on schedule.” I answer the call slowly and cup my hand over my mouth. “I know your secrets, too.” I whisper.

I am greeted by a familiar giggle. “Oh, Patsy, your secrets are my secrets. What do you think of our new friend?”

“He surprised me,” I answer hesitantly.

“How much?”

“What do you mean how much?”

“Did you wake up the neighbors?”

“No.”

“Did you pee your pants?”

“Certainly not.” I drop my hand as I hiss this.

She giggles again. “Too bad. Maybe we will have better luck at the haunter house.”

“Maybe. Since those people aren’t used to your tricks.”

She cackles and the line goes dead. I shake my head and go back to work, wondering exactly what a skeleton has to do with the dragon’s lair theme we chose for this year’s haunted house. I guess I will find out when I transport our bony friend to his new final resting place.

So this was meant to brighten your Friday, but life got in the way. Here it is to brighten your Monday instead. Hope it helps you get into the mood to spook and be spooked. Muhahahahaha!