When we first moved here, we lived in an apartment while we waited for the completion of the house. One morning I arose from my bed and headed into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I noticed my husband as he sat up, and swung his feet to the side of the poster bed, just as he always did – giving his body a chance to catch up with his brain. I reached for my toothbrush, picked up the paste, and squirted it on the brush. It had not been until that moment when I turned my gaze down, into the sink. The instant I did….there it sat…..lounging…….front tentacles waving around as it had then sensed my presence, I’m sure.
Without hesitation, I sail the toothbrush through the air. My hands immediately go up, and I begin flailing them about. I am now becoming every shade imaginable, since I had begun to hyperventilate. Again, without any brain wave I take flight back into the bedroom; feet never touching the floor – like a frightened gazelle. Only, my feet are moving and I am not, as there is this horrible drag on my momentum, because my nightgown is caught on the handle of the door. Then, all in one fluid motion, I untangle myself, and land directly in front of my husband. My hands continuing to wave about as I dance back and forth. So terrified my larynx had sucked shut like the door on the vault.
The poor man finally gets there is a problem. (You think)? He never moves from the bed, but erects his torso, and stretches his eyes wide. His chest heaves with each erratic breath. All he can manage is, “What’s wrong!? what’s wrong!?”
In my continued state of horror, I am still dancing, and frantically waving. I opened my mouth to speak. But, the darn larynx still isn’t working. My voice had galloped off in terror, with the gazelle.
My husband, who has contracted my affliction, is now as distraught as I. But, he has to retain his air of masculinity. With that, he manages to hop to the floor. He cautiously tiptoes to the bathroom. As he stepped across the threshold, he let go a loud sigh, “Aw, Honey, please. It’s just a thousand legger.”
As the sound of his speech signaled he had it all under control, my voice suddenly peeked out from where it had been hiding. I shuttered, took a deep breath, and dropped my body against the side of the bed. I pushed the words past my cracked throat, “Did you kill it?”
“Yes, Honey, its dead. You can calm down now.”
After realizing he had rescued me by killing the intruder, I answered, “Are you kidding, that thing was as wide as it was long. I quivered again, “Ugh, centipedes?”
“You are such a girl,” he said in that funny way he talks and laughs at the same time.
When this happened, we had been married almost twenty-five years. I am declaring at this very moment, if he didn’t know how much of a girl he really married, then I’m afraid the next twenty-five will be pretty enlightening for sure.
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