The Best Idea He Ever Had

Monday is pizza lunch day at the elementary school, the only school without a cafeteria where one could buy lunch in a pinch. . . if, say, one overslept or forgot to get lunch meat, or just couldn’t fricking deal with the prospect of making that many goddamn sandwiches again. Therefore, Monday has long been our throw-money-at-the-kids-and-let-them eat-crap-at-school day.

When school started up again after the holidays, CC issued a mandate: each of the four kids who have not yet graduated will be responsible for making school lunches one day each week.

Monday plus 4 kids making lunches each one day a week translates into both of us getting a whole extra thirty minutes’ sleep in the morning. That’s almost better than sex.

Almost.

It had to be a rule laid down by him. I never would have been able to make it stick. First off, they wouldn’t have believed me. Then, when they realized that I meant business, they would have been stuffing fistfuls of dry cereal (if there was any left) into sandwich bags and hurling them at each other on the way out the door going, “Here’s your lunch!”.

But now, the night before their allotted day, they make the sandwiches. They gather the snacks. They label the bags and put the cold things in the fridge. There have been some interesting but predictable occurrences. Like the lunchmaker gets the most coveted snacks. And how the day that we were nearly out of bread, #4 equally dispersed the hateful heels from two loaves of bread so that everyone got only one, and no one got stuck with two. Except for herself; she was exempted from heels and got the last two regular pieces of bread. She left one heel for CC and I to share for toast.

Last night #2 came into the living room full of angst.

#2: I would like to state for the record that I HATE that wheat bread for sandwiches!

Me: That’s what you said when I bought white bread! What do you want?

#2: Well, I like that OTHER white bread!

CC: I bought a loaf of that- it’s on the counter!

#2: I KNOW! That’s why I used it for my sandwich.

Me: And you used the hateful wheat bread for everyone else’s sandwich?

#2: Well, yeah. That way there will be more of the good white bread for my sandwiches later.

Me: When has that concept ever worked at any time for anything in this family?

#2: We’re out of goldfish.

My favorite part of this whole thing, maybe even better than the extra sleep, is what they’re writing on each other’s lunch bags.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious but we didn’t see it coming: My darling baby brother, Fart Face, Booger.

But #5, having Friday as his lunch-making day, has the entire week to think up retaliations for what his sisters write on his bag.

The girls underestimated him. My favorite last week was Don’t forget your ointment!

Releasing the Salamanders (no, that’s not a euphemism).

#5 went on a camping trip this weekend. It was the first time he’d spent the night away since he came to live with us. It was unnerving, having him gone. But he returned on Sunday with salamanders.

CC and I are up way too late, sucked in to Kill Bill like we are every time it comes on. It’s my turn to get up with the kids in the morning.

Me: Whoa. There is some serious salamander activity next to me here.

CC: In what way?

Me: There was a splash.

One salamander is still at the bottom of the bowl, but the other is very determinedly attempting to get out.

splash.

Me: Dude is getting out of that bowl for sure. What should we do?

CC: {sigh}

Me: Really. What do you do with a salamander? I feel a tremendous sense of obligation for these little guys.

CC: Fine. Get the car keys. I’ve had two scotches and half a bottle of wine. You’re driving.

Me: Okay, but you have to carry them.

CC: Oh sure. Make the impaired guy carry the salamanders.

I pause to take a picture.

We have a park near our house that has both a pond and a stream. It’s a nice park. A great place to release your salamanders. Except it’s the kind of park that has police who notice and come to question you if you’re there after dark.

Me: Wait, these aren’t like zebra mussels are they?

CC: No. Get in the car.

We go out to the car- me, CC, and two salamanders.

Me: You know, there’s an X-Files episode about this.

CC: No there isn’t.

Me: Yes there is.

CC: About dumping salamanders out in a pond?

Me: No, but about salamanders. This guy who has it out for Mulder gets worked on at prison by some crazy doctor and he gives him a salamander hand, thereby proving my theory once again.

CC: Which is?

Me: That you can name pretty much anything, and there’s an X-Files episode about it.

CC: {silence}

Me: The end.

CC: {silence}

Me: Don’t drop the salamanders.

CC: I’m not going to drop the salamanders. They’re going to get eaten by fish the instant we set them free.

Me: No they won’t.

CC: Yes they will.

Me: Well, better to be eaten by a fish than by one of the puggles, which would cost us $400 and three days of emotional duress while they’re hooked up to an I.V. at the vet.

CC: We’re going to get arrested for this on some eco-violation. They’re going to come and arrest #5, and all the rangers that took him on the camping trip, and we’re going to have to sell the house and move into some tiny apartment where we don’t all fit to pay remediation costs to remove and restore these two salamanders to Western New Jersey.

Me: I’m pretty sure we don’t have that much equity in the house.

CC: {sigh}

Me: I forgot my flashlight. Also, I’m in flip-flops.

CC: Can we just drop them in the pond instead of the creek? The last thing I need to do is break a frickin’ ankle tonight.

Me: This decision of where to drop them probably is the single most important thing that will determine their length of life, isn’t it?

CC: Who cares? The cops are gonna be here any minute. “What’s that, officer? No, sir, we’re just taking our bowl for a walk. We do it all the time.”

We dump them.

Into the pond.

One stays put. The other heads for dry land.

I like to think he was the jumper.

Me: I wonder how long it’s going to take #5 to figure out they’re gone.

CC: About as long as it takes him to cross the floor. He did leave them on the kitchen table. It’s going to be the first thing he checks when he wakes up.

Me: Yeah.

CC: {laughs}

Me: What?

CC (re-enacting our first phone call eleven years ago when he was interviewing me to be his assistant on the Aida tour): So, I’ll hire you for the gig. In like, eleven years, you’re going to be dumping two salamanders out of a cereal bowl into a park pond in New Jersey while looking out for cops. I have no idea what happens between these two events. You still want the gig?

For the record, I still would have taken the gig.

Fiction Guest Post By #5.

I have a special treat today. #5 has agreed to do a guest post.

Me: I have a favor to ask you.

#5: What?

Me: Will you do a guest post on my blog?

#5: Mmm. Maybe. How much work do I have to do?

Me: Nothing. You did it already {I held up the story he had written}. You just have to say yes.

#5: Okay. Can I play on your iPad?

It’s a good story. Thrills, suspense, danger, bacon. Lots of monsters. We’re both quite proud of it.

On this day of giving thanks and counting blessings I always try to take a moment to remember maniacal and implicitly undead yet tasty breakfast meats . Enjoy!

One dark, dreary Halloween night, me Ethan, Hank, Brandon, Paton, and Chucky walked into a creepy haunted house in a cemetary with our candy. Giant black spiders were crawling everywhere. That completely explained why there was absolutely no girls there. A giant, greasy, delicious looking piece of bacon walked up and invited us in. We walked in terrified as a sharp, deadly blade shot out of the wall. I saved us all except for the bacon, because then I knew it was a trap. Grease was splurting out of the bacon.

As a prize for saving us from them, they let me eat it. I devoured the bacon. Everyone was amazed by how fast I ate it. It was terrific bacon, and the best bacon I have ever tasted. I started to wonder who made all of the bacon. We tried to run for our lives, but the huge, scary door slammed closed with a quick squeak before we had a chance to get out. We all screamed louder than we have ever screamed before.

We tried as hard as we could to open the huge, scary door. We were trapped!

We friendly tip-toed up the creepy, broken stairs. The stairs broke even more and squeaked every time we took a step. When we finally got to the top of the stairs, we tumbled straight into a trap door. We tried to jump out but it was way too high. Another problem of getting out, is there were scary bats everywhere. Then, big army ants came out and tried to kill us! The army ants ate my pants, but luckily Chucky had an extra pair incase I wet myself, which also happened. We ran trembling. We stopped at the corner. They almost killed us when a big, blood sucking vampire swooped by and flew us back out. He told us “The evil bacon is finally fighting back, and they going to eat all of you and me. After that, they are going to take over the world. They are go also going to eat me too because they called me a trader!” I asked, “who makes the bacon?” He said, “An evil devil!” The bacon heard us talk and came out and chased us. We all screamed, and ran for dear life.

We bounced trough the scary house screaming the whole entire time. A big, spooky ghost came out of the wall, but we rushed right through his stomach and he disapeared. A big, bloody zombie jumped out of a coffin. I got a hold of Eathan and was about to eat him when I noticed an ax was on the wall, and I chopped the zombie’s bloody arm off. The zombie was completely bleeding. We sadly all lost all of our candy in the spooky, deadly haunted house.

We almost got out, when we relized the evil, wanting victorious, deadly bacon was going to still take over the world and get their victory. So, we ripped out the sords and knives that we forgot about and used them agenst the bacon. We had the fight of our lives while stabbing, cutting, chopping and devouring all the bacon. The evil bacon sadly ate Paton and he was digested and never heared from again but the rest of us happily destroyed the evil and got out safe. We all had a party/funeral without a body. We all cheered for saving the world, but we were sad Paton got eaten. Luckly we were happy enough to wash the sadness away though.

The End.