Stay-at-Home Mom Goes Out

Author's Note:Yes, this is written in broken sentences, randomly spoken phrases, but as you read it, you'll enjoy it. I hope. ~ Red

I sat there watching them wondering what made me dislike them. Was it her perky smile? Was it his ability to look stupid while he told me how wonderful the weather would be, when in reality he'd be wrong? Maybe I didn't like them because the man delivering the sports always seemed to chuckle when my team lost. No, I think it was the camera guy. Yea. . . he just made them all look bad.

Any who, for some reason I didn't like them and so I was determined to find dirt on them, they were just to damn perky in the morning. That's it! That was the reason. They were to damn perky in the morning and so that morning when I woke up, News Channel 15's News Team was the enemy and I, a stay at home mom from Indiana, was the judge and jury. Now. . .how to get the dirt on them.

Once I got the kids off to school. I called the television studio and asked when the next "Community is Welcome Day" was. Just my luck, it was that afternoon starting at one o'clock. I was all giddy inside. It was obvious I was supposed to expose their dark secrets. I was the one that would bring that Grinning Blonde Bimbo, Meteorologist Mutt, Sarcastic Sporty, and Jiggles the Camera Man down. I called my mom, made arrangements for her to pick the kids up from school and headed out the door.

My first stop was the bank. I needed funds. Surveillance equipment topped my list, followed by bail money. Next stop, my husband's work. That didn't go over well.

"Honey, what are you doing here?" he asked me.

"I'm just letting you know I may not be home when you get there," I told him. My face was serious, I was determined to be honest with him and I was determined he would not stop me.

He didn't looked concerned. . .yet. "Oh okay. What's up?"

Okay. . . there it was. The chance to lie. The opportunity to tell the truth lay on the table. Did I? Did I tell the truth and let him know what was on my mind? Did I confess that the morning team just finally pissed me off and it was time to take them out of their perkiness? Yes. . . honesty is the best policy. So I did it. I was honest. . .sorta.

"I'm going to the television studio. They are having that special day when you come in and take the tour of the place. I figured it would be a good educational trip for the Scouts to take, but I want to know for sure they'll not be bored or anything."

"Oh okay. Sounds cool. When will you be home?" he asked.

Damn. . . there is was again. Another opportunity to admit I had no clue because I could very well never come home. Hence, the bail money. I reached in my purse and handed him an envelope. "I'm not sure, so I stopped by the bank and got some money out, in case I get home after the bank closes."

He took the envelope and looked inside. "What the Hell. . .did you clean the bank account out?" He thumbed through all the bills.

"No. . . did you know they only let you have a grand without a 24 hour notice! I've half a mind to. . ." I stopped and said nothing, but man I was thinking. I was thinking hard. Were they in cahoots with the News Team? I'd have to discover that later. "Look I'm just giving you that money to keep it safe. You may need it later."

I stepped up kissed his cheek and made to leave, that idea was cut short though. He grabbed my wrist, hauled me back and said, "Honey."

Oh I hate it when he uses that word. It isn't just "Honey" its more like, "Honnnnney." You know that long drawn out "n"sound. I sighed, blew some air from my mouth, that forced the curls of my bangs to wiggle and I tucked my head into his chest. "Yeah?" I asked innocently.

"Whattcha up to?" he asked.

Damn, he did it again. He gave me another opportunity. "Nothing."

"Honnnnnneeeeey"

"What?"

"What's going on."

"Nothing."

"Sweetheart, why did you get all this money out?" he asked me.

I sighed. "You may need it later."

"Why?"

I could hear it. I could hear that tone of voice that he has. There are different tones of voices that my husband possesses. This one was the, "tell me what your doing Honey. . .I won't let you leave unless you do" voice. Again, I sighed.

"I'm going to video tape the morning news team and catch them in the act," I admitted.

He laughed. Yep, laughed at me. I laughed too. "Really, what are you doing?"

I grinned. He didn't believe me. I told him the truth and he didn't believe me. I was scott free now. Yippee!

"I am. Really. I just had enough and I'm taking them down. Wiping them out. Cleaning their clocks."

Pete chuckled at me. "Sure. . .I know what day is coming up. I bet I know why you got this money out." He smiled at me and studied me hard.

I blushed. It was a real blush, because he'd remembered our anniversary was the that Saturday and here I was, the wife, and I forgot. "Nope, its for bail, so don't spend it."

He grinned. "Oh okay." He gave me a kiss, patted me on the ass and set me on my way.

That was simple. I smiled wide, climbed in the car and headed out. I told him the truth. I was honest. I was sincere. It was his fault now. Yep, he was a conspirator. He knew what I was doing and didn't stop me. Hmmm. . . that wasn't good. I grabbed my cell phone and called the family Lawyer.

"Mr. Maxwell's office," the squeaky voice came over the other end.

I rolled my eyes. I hated that squeaky voice. So annoying. So. . . snotty. "This is Mrs. Croft, is Tom free?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"An appointment for a phone call? No," I told her again rolling my eyes. Stupid redhead. I thought to myself. Then I touched my redhair. . . stupid bottled redhead, I changed my wording. Squeaky was a natural brunette, but during the summer she'd gone Clairol crazy and became a redhead wanna be.

"Well, he's in a meeting," she said.

"Can he fit me in?" I asked.

"Let me check," Squeaky replied.

I sighed, yawned, and waited. The elevator music began. Oh man. . . elevator music. I hated elevator music. I drove while it played. I yawned while it played. I almost fell asleep it while it played. My eyes shot open. That was it. That was how Lawyers made their money. They played elevator music while on hold. It drove a person to start thinking random thoughts and then BAM! They were so numb from boredom that when the caller returned to the real world, they would agree to anything.

I listened more closely to the music. Were those music notes actually codes that were programming me to do whatever the voice would command me to do? Oh yes. . .I heard them.

The voice of Squeaky Red returned. "He can fit you in at one o'clock," she said.

One o'clock! No that wouldn't do. I had to take the News Team down. Damn. The News Team. The Lawyer. Shit, no choice there. "Sure, I'll talk to him at one." I hung up the cell phone and switched gears. Thinking gears that is.

I pulled into the gas station and found a telephone book hanging from a chain that was attached to the pay phone. I thumbed through it until I found a new Lawyer's number. Just in case, mind you. I ripped out the page and stuffed it in my pocket, got back in the car and headed to the grocery store to grab a few things for a quick picnic lunch for one.

The store was dimly lit. I never understood that. Still don't. I mean good grief, they are the biggest discount store in the Universe and they don't have proper lighting! I walked through the doors, got a half ass welcome to Wally World greeting and grabbed a cart. I passed the bakery and smelled the day old rolls, they passed off as fresh made and almost bought one, but changed my mind. Focus, I told myself. Focus!

I pushed past the donuts, pies, rolls, breads, cakes. Damn, sabotage my diet. But I prevailed. I was determined to win. I grabbed bananas, grapes and apples. I'd take the spare one homes. If I made it home, I told myself. I grabbed some crackers and cheese in a can then headed to the check out counter.

Inwardly I pleaded for the cashier not to be that woman that never smiles. But as I'm sure you can guess. . . there she was. Blue-haired, loose dentured, ben-gay smelling Depressing Diva. I groaned and loaded my stuff on the conveyor belt. "Morning," I said with a smile and a lift to my cheeks. Hey, she was the one in a bad mood, not I. I was on my way to ridding the world of wrong doers!

"Morning. Is this all?" she asked. Her voice as blue as her hair.

I looked at my stuff. "Yes," I answered. Of course it was all. Did she see me run around and grab more? Did she? NOOOO! I sighed and watched as she scanned the crackers 110 times before finally punching in the UPC and going for the can of cheese. She ran that 60 times before the beep cleared it.

"$115.53."

I blinked a dozen times and waited for her to catch her mistake. She didn't. She looked at me like I was supposed to hand her $115.53. "Ummm. . I think something rang up wrong."

She rolled her eyes and looked at the receipt. "Nope, I ran everything once. $115.53 please."

"Could you let me see the receipt?" I asked. I was biting my cheek and when she gave me a copy of the receipt, I studied it and then pointed out the error. She'd charged me for enough grapes to feed the country of Madagascar. "I didn't buy all those grapes."

"You didn't?" she asked.

"Ummm, no."

She picked up the phone and I heard, "Produce to check out number seven for a price check please."

Oh my God! Oh my f'ing God! I stood there, my jaw dropped. My eyes grew wide and I couldn't form words. A price check. . . A price check! @%!#

A woman in a red vest, decorated with lots of buttons, stars, and awards came over. "What's the problem?" she asked the cashier. I waited somewhat patiently.

"She says she didn't buy that much stuff. But I rang it all up. I didn't ring anything twice," Blue hair whispered under her breath.

Duh, I was right there. Eventually the girl with the 500lb vest of clickity buttons fixed the problem and I paid for the proper number of grapes. I was out the door and back in the car. I realized I need a soda, so I grabbed some change and headed to the pop machines, my car left running in its parking spot.

I walked up to the soda machine, saw the guy loading it and asked if I could grab a pop. "Just a sec," he said. "I'm almost done."

I shrugged my shoulders. I figured I'd just hand him the money and he could give me a soda, but no biggie I'd wait. He closed the machine door, smiled at me and walked off. I was touched. That was a nice smile he had there. Sweet and polite. I looked at my handful of change and pushed in a quarter, then another and then a nickle. I pressed the desired rectangle and waited. . . and waited. . . and waited.

My brow furrowed and I looked at the little circle. Nope there was pop in there, the guy did just fill it. I pressed the rectangle again. And. . . waited. . . waited. . . waited. I sighed and made another selection. Again I waited. Again I sighed. Again I pressed something else. Nothing. Not a damn thing. I pushed the lever in an attempt to get my money back. No money. No pop. Damn. I thought of going inside to get my fifty-five cents, but changed my mind. I turned around and watched a car drive past.

That looked like my car. Hmmm. . .I headed to my parking spot, but I figured I was in the wrong spot. No car. I walked a few more rows down, no car. "No way," I said. "No f'ing way!" My pulse raced. My heart beat fast in my chest. "Butt fuck! Someone stole my car!"

I stood there for a while then I heard this beep and remembered I was standing in the middle of the road. I stepped to the side. Now what? My shoulders slumped. It was over. My quest to rid the world of evil doers. One had stolen my car, my grapes, my bananas, apples, crackers and cheese in a can. Not to mention my money. I was glad I gave the extra grand to Pete. I blew air from my lungs and they stirred my bangs. I sniffed back the tears and headed back into the store.

"Welcome to Wally World," the greeter said.

"Thanks," I muttered.

I looked up and saw Blue-haired ben-gay woman and Red Vest talking. They saw me and I saw them whispering. I knew it was about me the Madagascar loving grape woman. I walked to the Customer Assistance counter and waited in line. I wasn't going to cry. I repeated that over and over in my head. I will not cry!

I cried.

The lady behind the counter just stared at me. I cried louder. She called security and a manager. They took me to a room. I cried some more. I told them how my car was stolen. They called the police. I panicked. I knew that the police would question me. They'd start out simple, wanting to know what kind of car I drove, then they'd go in for the kill. They'd ask what I did for a living. I'd tell them, I'm a stay at home mom and then they'd asked how my day had been going. You know it would be their way of making me think of something else. But really, it was their way of getting a confession out of me.

I would confess to nothing!

The police came and I went with them. I sat in the back of the squad car and everything was fine. Then it happened. We came to a stop light and I looked out the window. "Crap," I muttered. There looking back at me were the Pastor and his wife and here I was in the back of a police cruiser. I scooted down as far as I could in the seat and breathed in and out. The police car took off and I glanced back over the seat, and saw the Pastor pull in behind us. "Shit."

"Something wrong Mrs. Croft?" the police officer asked.

"Huh?"

"You seemed scared."

"We're being followed."

"Huh?"

"We're being followed!"

The officer looked in his rearview mirror and studied the car. "Well it sure looks that way. But that's okay, we're just going to the station. You can call your husband there."

"Oh, okay," I said. I stayed low. I wasn't wanting the Pastor to see me, though I was 99.9% sure he had already. I was right of course.

The officer got to the station, opened up my door, and helped me out. I looked back and there was Pastor Dick walking toward us. "Mrs.Croft."

"Dick."

The officer chuckled, but said nothing.

"This is my Pastor," I introduced the officer and the clergyman.

"What's happened?" Dick asked.

I explained and when he made the offer to take me home I hesitated. If Dick took me home then I couldn't meet my Lawyer. If I didn't meet the Lawyer then taking out the News Team idea was wasted. After all. . .wasn't that why I left home anyway?

I let Dick and his wife Jane take me home. I almost fell asleep, their conversation drawn out and boring to me, and when they reached my home it was longer, because I was stuck in the car until they released the lock button. I waited and listened to them chat.

"See Jane. See Dee's house?" Dick said.

"Yes, Dick. I see Dee's house. See her flowers."

"Yes, Jane. Dee has nice flowers."

"Dick, see Dee's dog. Dee what is your dog's name?"

I smirked, "Spot."

"Ohhh," Jane smiled. "Oh Dick! See Spot! See Spot run!"

I rolled my eyes and when I heard the unlock button I jumped out of the car and waved a thank you. "Come Spot," I shivered at my monotone voice and got to the door of the house. I lifted the mat, grabbed the spare key and then looked back. I couldn't put the spare key back. Dick and Jane would know where I put it. I tucked it in my pocket and waved goodbye again, before slipping back into the house.

I checked the time. It was noon. I wasn't going to be able to see the downfall of the morning news team. I sighed and headed to the living room. I flicked on the TV and saw... Busty Babette the afternoon Newscaster. . . Ohhhh I started thinking, thinking hard.