Once that pointy little finger rang my doorbell, her minty green sash like Miss America’s, draping over her civilian clothes, there was no question I would do what she wanted. Oh, her accomplice father was congenial enough. Must be a sales guy. Knows the schtick, that hound dog ‘here we are again’ look. But that had nothing to do with this. Little Miss held her gaze as if to say, ‘You will do this, and I know you will do this, so let’s not drag this out, shall we?’
I put my money on the table, signed my name and never gave it a second thought. There was no shame, no sense of regret, no thought for tomorrow.
Four weeks later, the call came: ‘We’re here to deliver the goods. Should we just leave them on the front porch?’
‘Good Lord, NO!’ I thought, saying, ‘No, just leave them on the back patio table. Wouldn’t want the ants to get to them.’ It’s the dead of winter. There are no ants. Some things are better left unseen by the neighbors, especially the uppity kind. No sense in confirming their suspicions.
Our neighbors, by in large, are fine, decent folks who work hard, make above average money and are generally mind their own business. But one pair, in particular, don’t fit the mould. They make everything their business. Dealing with cable or wiring issues… better not go digging around in your own yard unless they know about it, or some county official will show up asking asinine questions and causing delays. Their yapping dogs wake the world and crap in our yard at 4 AM, and somehow we should be okay with that.
But we’ll save that saga for another day.
Today, we’ll stick to the story at hand: The forced receipt of contraband, WMD if you will, at the whim of the girl with the green sash.
I sped home before anyone else could discover the package. What to do. What to do. Where to hide such a thing? Five boxes of such a thing.
The strategy became crystal clear in an instant:
Thin Mints in the freezer, under the tomb of frozen fish. Tagalongs tag along behing the big keg of protein powder and supplements purchased last year. Savanna Smiles (the lemon cookies) camouflaged in with the boxed items in the pantry for easy, near-invisible access. And the Samoas… straight to the panty drawer.
Some things you simply don’t risk.