I once thought I found a guy who loved me the way I was. And then he decided he wanted a life full of the glamorous things. He didn’t cheat on me, but he sure as hell made me feel like an idiot for ever trusting him. I guess people change.
Donut. I need a donut.
Using more energy than I care to admit, I heave myself off the couch and wearily strut to the kitchen counter that is holding the tasty promise.
“When did you get these?” I ask, opening the box.
Oh, heaven has found me. Cream filled.
“Last night. Not too long after you left,” she says mildly. “Did you ever catch the monster spider?”
Stupid, big, scary spider.
“No, but at least I found out that it’s not poisonous. I looked it up. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t.”
I pick up the first donut as I walk back to the chair, ready to unwind and eat the delicious morsel in my hand without any guilt.
“So was he good as a date?” she asks, sounding all too eager for details I don’t have.
“He was nice enough. We danced, drank, and enjoyed the fact that it’s a damn small world. But other than that, nothing special. He probably went after another girl that did have the sparkle after I left, but he was polite enough to pretend to be my date for the night. He’s apparently not as big of a dick as I thought,” I say, and then I bite down into the glazed heaven that—
I start gagging and coughing as something gross ruptures and coats my mouth. What disgusting hell is this?
Maggie starts laughing as I dive off the chair and rush to the sink, spitting out a glob of the white nastiness that is mingling with bile. Then I turn the sink on and put my mouth straight under the faucet, praying for a reprieve from the offensive substance.
Is that... mayonnaise?
Maggie’s cackles are only growing louder as I continue to rinse, spit, and repeat. Once most of the grossness is gone, I grab a banana from the bar and start chomping on it, praying it hurries and gets rid of the lingering taste before I vomit.
I glare at the traitor who is rolling off the couch, heaving for air as her body writhes from the riotous laughter.
“You did this?” I ask through another mouthful of banana.
“Of... course... not,” she says through her chuckles.
Then I glare at my front door, contemplating doing something foul right now. I was too busy to do anything to him today. Damn. Next time I’ll make time.
“That’s it. If you want to be a part of this war, then I’m about to start including you,” I growl.
She stands and shakes her head, still laughing. “Oh no. I’m Switzerland. I don’t want to be involved.”
“Being Switzerland means you’re neutral. You’re not frigging neutral. You’re a traitor—Benedict Arnold.”
She only laughs harder while sitting back down on the couch, clutching her side as though it hurts.
I’ll pay him back. I just need to think of something good. His mayonnaise donut prank was actually lame compared to my glitter prank. I’m still out in front. I think. Well, his blue dye trap did make me go to the hair stylist before my date.
“I’m going to take a shower. Then I’m kicking your ass,” I mumble, ignoring her snickers as I head to my room.
It takes less than two minutes to strip down and get in the shower. Stepping under the warm water after a terrible day is always comforting. I’ve been in a stiff skirt, an itchy jacket, and a ruffled blouse all day. I look drabber than a ninety-year-old librarian when I go to work.
After washing the day away, I step out, wrap a towel around me and my wet hair, and set to work finding something comfortable to wear. As soon as I open my panty drawer, a scream bubbles out as a hairy beast stares at me.
Perverted spider!
“Shoo!” I urge, acting like the damn thing has a clue what I’m saying.
It runs toward me, and I leap backwards, stumbling and falling onto my grounded bed. This guy is going to be the death of me. But I’ll be the death of him first. Game on.
With cautious and careful maneuvers, I grab a glass from my dresser and time my attack just right. With a quick slam, I’ve got the monster pinned under the glass, and a sigh of triumph graces my lips. Now I just have to get him out of my room.
How the hell do I do that? When it jumps under the glass, forcing me to squeal, I consider giving it the damn room and moving out.
“You okay?” Maggie asks, sounding so damn entertained.
“Just caught Killer,” I announce, keeping a wary eye on the spider that could just be pretending to be captured.
“The spider?” she squeaks.
I should transport this thing to her panty drawer and let it terrorize her. But I don’t need two wars going on at once, so I refrain.