12 Domestic Blitz

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Still trying to master a format for sending these things. This is a continuation of a series of stories (eleven have been previously sent). You should oughta be finding the preceding stories in order to make better sense of it all. I started these under "Relationships" as Hopalong Clyde, then began putting them here, one at a time. I got it pretty well messed up didn't I? But the stories are OK.

Much of the time, Emo represents my mother's side of my ancestry, including the Cherokee Indian named Nancy (actually Nancy Dunne of the Oklahoma reservation). Hopalong Clyde is mostly showing my father's side, including the homestead in the Mountain House desert. Lately I have been mixing them up, so I don't know what to do. Pretty Baby is a conglomeration of Emo's various ex-wives and sig others, but if you want to see who she is, just watch the barrel racing segments of the rodeos on the TV.


Hopalong Clyde is in domestic trouble (again). He knows the universal language used by the gals when they are applying the screws. We all know how they can do it. Pretty Baby gave him a hug that made him wonder if he had just been stabbed. I mean, Pretty Baby somehow accomplished that careful balance between the customary little tokens of affection and a declaration of war. Clyde can't get a handle on it.

He can't say, "Where's my huggie?" because he just got one. Sort of.

And here is another thing he can't do. He can't say "What's wrong?"

No sir, because even if she doesn't say, "Nothing," she'll say "Mr. H. Clyde, you know very well what's wrong" and then she won't talk about it.

This sort of thing is a heavy problem for us narkleuptics. You have to do research. Lets see, what day of the week is this? When is her birthday? That's always a touchy question because he's likely to not know what month we are in and miss it entirely. Omigod! Did he forget Valentines day? No. He got past that one somehow. Jeez, how could he know what the trouble is when, for example, he'd been home alone for days and was surprised to find that somebody had recently made the coffee. You know how it is, the old Automatic behavior thing.

The Big Chill started after she had been gone visiting over to the city(?) of Inkom. Gone for days! He wanted to please her with a special effort to honor her homecoming, make the place kinda nice. Did some vacuuming work.

He made the bed! You have to do it just right, you know, just like she does. You gotta flap the blankets up and down maybe a hunnert times until each one comes down just right. You gotta tuck the topmost cover under, then over the pillows, just so, and those little tassels have to fall just right. It's quite a pain. It's a pain in the patoot but he did it anyway.

But now he was thinking that maybe she's finally rebelled about doing all the work around here, that's what it is. He's been expecting an explosion someday. She is always volunteering to do this or that nice (but not really necessary) thing and then eventually she gets overwhelmed by all the stuff she is doing.

He remembers from their dating time when he was doing alright on his own. We narkleuptics have little survivor tricks. Like instead of washing all that underwear, he'd just go over't Fort Mudge and buy some more! About the time that he couldn't get the closet door closed because the underwear bag had reached an alarming size, she volunteered to do his laundry.

"It'll be no problem" she said "I am doing a bunch today anyway and I'll just take these home and throw them in."

This is another PWN problem. You don't want to fuss with stupid laundry, or much of any stupid thing else, yet you don't want others to pay the price of your own laziness. Half the load is the carrying of the guilt. So Clyde declined her offer. She seemed a little irritated but then gave him a diversionary kiss at his front door while she snaked an arm past him and grabbed the laundry bag. Quick as could be, she threw it in her dainty, high-water, pickup truck. She was gone with a toot, a wave, and a "Whoops!" as she hit the gopher hole but managed to keep up enough momentum for the mud hole.

But here is Clyde, back in real time, thinking that it sure is hard to see her unhappy. It's not normal. Yet it sure is hard to beg for the honor of being criticized. Dang! He guesses he'll just have to wait and see. Waiting for an avalanche is an uneasy business. Maybe a little nap will help.

He was pokin' around outside when she finally let it fly. Seems that when she got home from the city (?) of Inkom, she saw right away that he was wearing his T shirt wrong side out! Clyde was thinking, "what in the everloving blue-eyed world was she talking about?"

"Don't you try to look innocent with me! I happen to know that the only time you get your T shirt on wrong is when you dress in the dark! And besides, while I was gone, you didn't even come home at night. That bed hasn't been slept in! It was just pre-zackly the way I left it and......" and on and on.

You can imagine Clyde having no explanation for the T shirt. Stuff happens when you are on autopilot! And him making the bed is quite unlikely. Unheard of. She isn't buying his lame story about making the bed by hisself! He was making no progress with her.

At least he got to do all the talking because she wasn't talking at all. Again. So he said, "Remember the time you did my laundry? Well when you was done there was a extra pair of men's shorts in there. Not even mine! How do I know? Just how do I know? I wouldn't never wear nothing that says Froot Of The Loom on it. What kind of sissy label is that? Froot Of The Loom!"

Yup, that stopped her. There she was, head kinda hunkered down and she was sort of pushing some pebbles around with her foot and she had this big silly grin like you get sometimes when you are embarrassed near to death. Real quiet-like she says,

"Well........... I liked YOU best!"


Later, Clyde was telling me about this fracas and I asked hows come he waited so long before he mentioned the laundry thing? He said he was saving it for emergencies.

I asked Clyde if he really didn't know why his T shirt was on wrong.

"Of course I didn't. I wouldn't lie to Pretty Baby! Honesty is an important part of any relationship."

But then he went and said, "Once you learn to fake that, you've got it made."


Reporting from Fort Mudge, Idaho

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