Last night, Gary and I went out on a double date (we were with each other, in case there was any doubt). We went to dinner and harassed a waitress we know there, then moved on to a haunted house, where Gary encouraged me to go poke and prod an exquisite, 8-foot-tall statue that turned out to be a man in costume, on stilts.
Thanks for the potentially embarrassing moment, Gary! Now I don’t feel so bad for not telling you when Werewolf Man stepped out of the shadows and started following you.
The night was still young after the haunted house, so we went to a friend’s house. When we got there, the friend’s three young children were getting ready for bed and were sedate, peaceful, and calm…until Gary got near them. Now, he blames me when the kids get wired and loopy, but last night was all the evidence I needed that it’s not always my fault!
The oldest girl first told us she is 8 and then changed it to 9, leading Gary to ask her, “Well, which is it?” She laughed and said she is 9, and then bragged about how tall she is. Gary shrugged and told her she was only tall because she was standing on the stairs at the time. Thump, thump, she came charging down the stairs to stand next to us and compare heights.
“You’re a shorty,” she told me before turning her attention to Gary, but she had to wait for everyone to stop laughing since short jokes are fantastically amusing among this crowd.
As she talked to Gary, I thought, “Uh-oh…” I saw that look crossing her face: the same look I see in the cats’ eyes when I pour catnip on the carpet. The eyes get darker, and larger, glowing, and you can almost see the uncontrollable energy and impending craziness crackling and building up in their heads, like a spring wound too tight and ready to blow.
Just like a kitten hopped up on catnip, this once-calm little girl started pouncing around, actually making cat noises, yelling and making random loud noises just to hear herself, laughing maniacally, and climbing all over Gary like he was a jungle gym.
The other little girl, who is 4, and who was meek and silent when we first got there, lit up and burst into action as well. She joined her older cohort in the noise brigade, chasing Gary, and laughing so hard she nearly fell down.
I shook my head, standing back to laugh at the show that had erupted in front of me. Soon Gary was fending off two wildly hyperactive little girls, raising his arms to block them and taunting, “Go eat more sugar!” and “Who gave you crack?” as they got louder and more wired.
“Oooh, you said a bad word,” the older girl chided. Apparently they are having a drug awareness week at school, and they have discussed crack. I don’t know if they discussed if crack makes you utter cat noises and jump all over Gary, though.
Gary finally hovered by the front door, darting me meaningful glances and pointing urgently to the door.
“Don’t you want to hug them good-bye before we go?” I asked, pointing to the little girls who were now nearly foaming at the mouth.
“NO!” He made a break for it and escaped to the front porch.
The scariest part of the evening for Gary turned out to be not the Werewolf Man who followed him in the haunted house, or the man with the axe who hovered dangerously close to his back, or anything at all that had to do with the haunted house…nope, the scariest part of the night for him was two little girls hell-bent on being friends with the super-tall, loud, laughing man who strolled into their living room last night.
I was still laughing in the car and most of the way home.