Sunday, September 15, 2013

Story Time Sunday #2: "Be Very Quiet or We'll Wake My Wife Up"

Over a decade ago, before The Girl and The Ginger were even a twinkling in Hubby's eyes, we spent our weekends like many early 20-somethings did- drinking and having fun with friends. When Hubby turned 21, we were living in base housing, so our house immediately became the party house, as all of his friends were still single and lived in the dorms. I honestly wasn't a huge drinker back then, and I was working 10 hour shifts at the mall, so I would come home, maybe have a wine cooler, and sit on the couch and watch TV.

One particular evening I was super exhausted, so I plopped on the couch, which we had situated in front of the dining room (open floor plan), so behind the couch was our dining room table. Hubby and his friends were sitting at the dining room table, playing some drinking game, so I flipped on the TV and ended up falling asleep.

I was awakened a little while later by some loud sound. I opened my eyes, but didn't move my body on the couch. As my senses started to focus, I realized that the house was dead quiet- not normal for an evening of drinking games. I laid there for a second, looking around the living room, trying to figure out what the sound was that woke me up. That's when I heard whispering coming from behind me, from the dining room table.

"Shhhhhh. Everyone be very quiet or we'll wake her up. Don't make a sound." 

Oh hell's bells, what in the hell did my husband just do that

  1. He didn't want me to know about
  2. Quieted the entire house
  3. Warranted him warning everyone to be quiet until whatever it was, was cleaned up and/or disposed of.
I heard the sliding of a dining room chair across the floor, so I popped up, over the couch, and stared directly at Hubby, who froze in a mid creep from the table.

"Hi, honey, love of my life. How did you sleep?" Hubby said to me, as I watched him try and block the dining room table behind him from my view.

"What'd you do?" I asked, as I looked past him to see all of his friends staring at the table, blatantly refusing to make eye contact with me.

"What? What do you mean?" he asked, as he further tried to block the dining room from me. I noticed one of his friends sliding over to where Hubby had been sitting, and he was starting to stretch his arms out onto the table and lay his head down, in a very suspicious way.

"EVERYBODY FREEZE!! NOW!!! DON'T MOVE A MUSCLE" I yelled, as I jumped off the couch. Hubby kept trying to block my way into the dining room, so in my sober state, and his drunken state, I outsmarted him by running into the kitchen and through the second doorway into the dining room. He and his drunk friends scrambled to adjust to my cat-like reflexes.

"EVERYONE, ARMS UP! OFF THE TABLE. AND DON'T MOVE!" I yelled. Drunken arms everywhere flew up into the air.

I walked around my dining room, looking at walls, statues, pictures, everything I could to see what was out of place, and saw some broken glass on the floor, near Hubby's seat.

"What's this? What broke?" I asked, looking at all of Hubby's friends. Again, not a single one of them made eye contact with me.

I looked at the dining room table above the broken glass, and saw all kinds of dents and scratch marks in the wood.

"What the hell is wrong with my table? Where did these scratch marks come from? Someone BETTER start talking."

Pic from The ShoFar

I walked around the table, and surveyed the witnesses. I spotted one who seemed nervous and was twitching a little, so I honed in on him.

"What happened? Can you tell me, please?" I asked, all sweet and innocent. He looked up at Hubby, whose eyes were wide, and he signaled to the guy to not say a word. 

"Please? We just bought this table, our first dining room table. What happened?" I asked, my tone dripping with sweetness.

"Don't do it, man. Don't tell her anything. She's not your friend. The sweetness is an act," Hubby word-vomited from behind me. It didn't work. The guy broke.

"It was a bet. I didn't think he'd actually take it," Hubby's friend blurted out. All of the other guys at the table let out huge breaths, that apparently they had been holding in during my investigation.

"Not cool, man, not cool," Hubby stated from behind me.

"I'm sorry, man, I can't lie to your old lady," he said to Hubby, then turned back to me. "It was a bet. I bet your husband $10 he wouldn't smash that Jack Daniel's bottle over the table. I didn't think he'd actually do it. But, he did. That's the sound that woke you up. I'm sorry." 

I turned to Hubby. "You broke a liquor bottle over our brand new table for $10? What the hell?"

"What? He said I wouldn't do it because I was scared of waking you up. He questioned my manhood. I had to do it." 

At this point, beyond frustration, I only had one thing left to do at that moment. I turned back to Hubby's friend.

"Well, pay him the damn $10."

Hubby's friend shot up out of his seat, grabbed his wallet, and hung his head. "I only have $8 on me." 


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  1. OMG! I would have wanted to kill my husband!! I love how at the end you told the friend to pay up, too funny!

    1. Thank you! The whole $8 thing was completely true, too. For years we poked fun at that guy. If we were ordering pizza for everyone, and he'd say he'd put in $10, we'd always say, "Well, that really means $8" lol.